Forever in Your Arms
by RaeLynn Skye
Summary: Logan is an up and coming rockstar. Marie is running again. What happens when they meet up on the road.
1. Running

Notes: This story is just something I wrote. I'm not sure if there's more inside me. If you like it, I'll try for more. The next chapter of Angel eyes should be out soon for anyone who so desperately wants it *laughs at it's unlikelyness* tell me what you think.  
  
Forever in Your Arms, Chapter One.  
  
His feet pounded out his frustrations on the ground as he ran.  
  
One day left.  
  
The concert had sold out the first hour tickets had been on sale. He never thought he would make it into a band, let alone one as popular as the X- men.  
  
His mind flashed back to the lecture they had received earlier that day.  
  
"Just because everyone loves you now doesn't mean they will in two days." Xavier said, pacing. It meant as much to him as it did to any of them. He was old, no longer in his prime, and he couldn't do this for much longer. They were his last chance at success. "If you're nervous, or if you miss a word or a chord, it won't matter, but the whole picture will. No one wants to see one of you trip up. Being idols means not having faults. Until they learn to love you for who you are, faults and all, you won't be able to misstep.  
  
"You've all come very far. Worked very hard, and I know you're ready. But you still have a day before the concert, and you need to know that I'm not letting you laze around." Did he ever? "You need to be in the studio by ten o'clock sharp tomorrow morning. And I know you need your sleep, but you also need to be on time." He paused and looked at them, a wry smile on his face. "Please don't be late, otherwise, I will personally castrate you." Everyone laughed. "Okay, fine, I won't castrate you. But I need you to be on time." He paused, and rubbed the back of his neck. "This is a very important time for all of us. Now, go to your rooms, and get to sleep."  
  
They all nodded, and walked out.  
  
Xavier rubbed his temples. They couldn't chance messing it up either. They were all young, but they would never walk upright again if it didn't go well.  
  
Jean was the oldest, the most seasoned, and she didn't really fit in with the rest of them. If it weren't for the fact that she was the best keyboardist Xavier had-make that the only good keyboardist he had-she wouldn't have made the cut.  
  
Being five years older wasn't good, even if she was the fiancé of the drummer. Even if she looked younger.but he couldn't change it.  
  
But the rest of them had no experience, no chance at making it if they screwed it up. Ororo would go back to her parents in Africa, they would accept her back into their home, and she would be none the worse except for the ache of failing. Scott could trail along in Jeans success-but not for long, because she would get sick of him, as he knew she always did.  
  
But for him, for Logan, there was no other choice. He couldn't go back to his family-he didn't have one anymore-he couldn't trace a lover, because all he had ever had were one night stands.  
  
All he could do was go back to being a short order cook and sometimes whore.  
  
And his life would be hell.  
  
All he could imagine was the failure, the crowds disliking him, disliking the band, the image.  
  
He couldn't imagine what everyone else did:  
  
Fame.  
  
Fortune.  
  
Love.  
  
Because this was the first thing he had ever done right. And he had probably already screwed it up. Just like everything else he screwed up.  
  
He could remember it easily, no matter how he tried to forget.  
  
The yelling, the cursing, the sharp sting of the belt against his back. It had forged him, like iron in fire, but now he was hard, brittle, and would never be pure again.  
  
And that, he supposed, was what his father had wanted all along.  
  
"Logan, I know this is big for you." Charles had said, stopping him before he walked out the door. "It is for everyone, but you more than the rest." Xavier had always been able to see right through him. "I want you to know that you've got nothing to worry about." He chuckled. "Every woman teenaged through fifty has got you on their wall. If something goes wrong, you won't be blamed."  
  
"Unless I fall flat on my face." He said. "And break it." He had been born handsome, and despised what it brought to him.  
  
"Don't worry about that." Charles said. "Now, go, run it off, and then get some sleep. Tomorrow is important."  
  
And so he had, and it helped.  
  
But now he couldn't breathe, his fears were lessened, but the sting in his feet, and the tightness in his lungs were almost the same, and as a branch hit him as he ran by it, it reminded him of his childhood. And he couldn't move.  
  
His father would probably see him on television tomorrow. Then he would know where his son was, and probably do something to ring a bit of cash flow out of him.  
  
Shit.  
  
He groaned, and then sat down on a nearby bench. The trees that surrounded him almost suffocated him, the crisp night air in his lungs feeling like small knives.  
  
Then he leaned back, and growled. The night always made him itchy with something he couldn't explain. And as he breathed in, he heard a noise, a slight crack, like a twig breaking.  
  
"Who's there?" He asked, but the woods made no noise. 


	2. Watching The Stars

Forever In Your Arms, Chapter Two.  
  
Her stomach clenched with hunger. What had it been, four, five days since she had last had a solid meal? A granola bar today, a fruit roll up the day before, a power drink the day before that, nothing the day before that, and, yes, five days, a hamburger.  
  
She had once thought that no one could possibly live on that little. Of course, she had also once thought that she would never be so entirely alone.  
  
But that part was over, wasn't it. Now was the time for new beginnings.  
  
She looked down at her feet, feet that had been walking for two months, in her mud crusted combat boots that were beginning to fall apart.  
  
Then she smiled.  
  
This, at least, was better than it had been before.  
  
She would have shuddered, but it seemed so stereotypical. So, instead, she sighed and leaned against a tree. Anything was better than that vodka breathed old hag.  
  
Marie hoped that she would rot in hell for what she had done. Not to mention jail.  
  
There was a clearing just up ahead. Marie had found that hotel gardens were typically plusher than parks, and, it was less likely she would be bothered by security. People looked for runaways in parks, but no one expected her kind in these surroundings.  
  
She pulled her sleeping bag off of the bottom of her backpack, and rolled it out on the grass. She shifted her backpack to where her head would be, and slid into the insulated sleeping bag.  
  
That's when she heard the running, the pounding of big feet on hard ground. And she almost groaned. Pass, please just pass by, don't stop, don't stop, just pass. Please.  
  
But the man didn't. For, by this time, she was sure it was a man, and grumbled for a while.  
  
After a while, it was again silent, and her half in, half out of the sleeping bag situation did not make her comfortable. She shifted, once, twice, and then slid the rest of the way in.  
  
Then, she heard the crack. Shit. She'd always had bad knees, something about her knee cap not aligning right when she bended it. Shit.  
  
"Who's there?" Said a purely masculine voice from the bench. The sound of it made her shiver. God, something, something in that voice. Tempted to call out, she curled up tighter into her sleeping bag. "Who the fuck is there?" Came the voice, harsher this time.  
  
Marie pulled herself out of her sleeping bag, and stood up, walking over to the edge of the grass. "It's just me." She said. "I was watching the stars. I didn't think anyone would come out this far."  
  
Logan could practically smell her fear, her lie. "Watch them with me." He said.  
  
She shrugged. Anything to make him go away faster.  
  
She came over, sat down on the bench, next to him, but further away than would be familiar. "Why are you out so far so late?" She asked.  
  
"Stress." He said. "I've got a big business thing tomorrow." She was his 'target audience,' and might have been in the hotel from, hell knows how far away with her rich parents to see him perform, so he wasn't about to tell her about that. "Why are you really here?"  
  
"I told you.to watch the stars."  
  
"I know you're lying."  
  
"Fine, would it make you feel better if I told you I came out here to practice evil pagan worships?" She stood up, exasperatedly, flinging her arms up, and spinning around.  
  
"If it were true, maybe. But it's not."  
  
"If you insist on the truth," she said, stopping, and facing him. "I'm a runaway, and I've got no freaking other place to go." Her voice was harsh, and if he hadn't looked any deeper than that, he might have thought it a lie as well, but the offended tone was underlying with panic and pain.  
  
"There's no need to be scared, kid." He said. "I'm not going to hurt you."  
  
"Right." She said, and she remained standing, even after he pat the seat next to him.  
  
He stood up, and snagged her by the arm. Then he began to pull her with him back to the hotel. "Come with me."  
  
"Listen, bud," she said, pulling her arm from his grasp, and firmly planting her feet. "No matter how desperate I am for a bed for the night, I'm not going to pay for it like that."  
  
"I wasn't saying you had to." He said. "Just come with me, and we'll work something out."  
  
"Hell if we will." She said, and began to stalk away.  
  
"Listen kid, I'm not going to hurt you." He said, snagging her again, and pulling her back to him by the waist. "I've been where you are. And if someone hadn't helped me, I would still be where you are, dead, or worse."  
  
"What's worse than dead?" She asked sarcastically.  
  
"Going back." He whispered harshly into her ear.  
  
She shuddered, and then looked up at him. His face was mere inches away from hers, and his hands were hard and persistent on her waist. She felt a zing like lightning through her system, something she'd never felt before. She looked at him, moved in closer, closer, and then, when they were just a hair apart, and their hearts were both beating like tribal drums, she pulled away, shaking. "I'll come with you." She said. "But don't ever touch me again."  
  
"Fine." He said, wrenching himself to face away from her. He was shivering. In the dark, he couldn't even tell what she looked like, but she had affected him more than any woman ever had before. He closed his eyes, then started walking back to the hotel. "You coming?" He asked harshly, turning to look at her.  
  
She was still shaking from the sudden, unexpected assault on her system. His words jerked her out of her trance. "Yeah." She said, making her way to him, and then jogging to keep up with his long strides. 


	3. There's only one Bed

Forever In Your Arms, Chapter Three.  
  
Once they reached the hotel, he grabbed her backpack. "What are you doing?" She hissed.  
  
"Babe, everyone in there'll know you're a runaway if you've got this thing stuck to your back." She looked up at him confused. "I can't have people think I take advantage of that kind of thing. It's bad publicity."  
  
"What the hell are you talking about?" She asked.  
  
"I'll tell you when we get up there." He said, then he spun around and growled. "What am I thinking?" He shoved the backpack at her, and stalked around the hotel. Then he spun around "You coming?"  
  
She looked at him, paused. "I thought."  
  
"Stop thinking." He said harshly. "We're taking the back entrance."  
  
She said nothing, but followed him.  
  
Once they got there, he pulled open the door, and she walked in. "Fifth floor." He said, then began to trek up the stairs.  
  
She followed.  
  
By the time they got there, he had barely broken a sweat. She was panting, and breathing hard. "Did we have to take the stairs?" She asked.  
  
"It's good for you." He said. "Now be quiet." He pulled open the door, walking quickly to his room. She followed.  
  
When she got into the room, he closed the door harshly, and then pushed her against it. His eyes flashed with something like greed and lust, and he moved in, pushing her against the door with his body.  
  
Then, he kissed her.  
  
She was terrified, could hardly breathe for her terror, and then-with the soothing of his hands along her sides-she loosened up. She opened her mouth up, and then slid her tongue into his mouth. She arched her back against his chest, wrapped her arms around his head, and brought it closer, stroking his tongue with her own until it sleepily stirred out of dormancy.  
  
She pressed her breasts against his chest, pulled her right leg up and wrapped it around his waist so as to pull herself closer to him, just a little bit closer to him, she groaned as she felt him-stiff and ready- against her thigh. Then she let her head fall back, hoping his would follow.  
  
But it didn't.  
  
Then she brought her head up. Cursing her stupidity, he had started it though, and even when she had said not to. Then he hadn't done anything, *anything* when she started to respond.  
  
She hadn't even meant to. She'd never been with a guy before, never kissed anyone, never touched anyone. Her mother had left her with the distinct idea that she was untouchable. That anyone, and everyone who came into contact with her would die because of it.  
  
That anyone who touched her immediately felt pain. That she was a burden. Acid.  
  
"I'm sorry." She said.  
  
"No." He said. "It's my fault. I just didn't expect that to happen."  
  
"What?" She asked.  
  
"You to respond." He smiled cockily against her cheek, the grin annoying her to no end. "You said you wouldn't pay for it that way. I thought you meant it."  
  
"I won't pay for it that way." She replied angrily, pushing him away, and walking deeper into the room. "I did mean it. I was just.surprised, is all."  
  
"Babe, you were more than surprised." He replied. "You wanted me."  
  
"So what if I did?" She asked, pacing back to him. "I've wanted things before I know aren't good for me. And now that I know what you actually want, I'm leaving." She walked to the door and jerked it open. "Goodnight."  
  
"Don't leave." He said, slamming his hand on the door.  
  
"As if." She replied, and pulled a bit harder on the door.  
  
He breathed out harshly. "Listen. I was just trying to show you what could happen if you go to a hotel room with a guy you don't know. I already have enough sex, thank you, and I don't need to con a little girl so that I can get some."  
  
"Fine." She said. "But I'm not a little girl."  
  
"How old are you?"  
  
"Eighteen." She said.  
  
"Baby, that's not something you tell a man." He said.  
  
"I handle myself." She said bitterly.  
  
"Like you handled yourself back there?" He asked, turning on the light and then pulling her into it.  
  
"Yes." She said. But his mouth had dropped open, and she was sure he hadn't heard her.  
  
"Holy shit." He said, looking at her. He hadn't seen her before, it had been dark, and when they'd been in the stairs and the hallway, she was behind him. He'd gotten a glimpse of a face partially covered in hair when they'd been near the hotel entrance, but nothing real.  
  
Now he knew what she looked like. A dream. "Shit." He said again, skimming his eyes over her face. The planes, the curves. The mouth he had kissed looked like a strawberry, just ripe to pluck. And her eyes were doe brown, like pools of understanding.he was almost lost in them already. She was gorgeous. Her hair was a plane of sleek black velvet, coming loose in places only enough to accentuate the sexiness of her face.  
  
And that was only her head.  
  
Her neck was long and thin, her body curved just subtly enough to seem innocent, but outrageously enough to be sexy. Her legs were long and slim, and everything about her seemed just perfect.  
  
"Done ogling?" She asked him.  
  
Once he realized that she was actually real, he blinked, looked up at her and blinked again. "You're beautiful." He said.  
  
"Thank you." She said, unnerved. No one had ever told her that before. She looked like crap, and she knew it, but, he seemed to believe what he had said. "Care to let me see what you look like?"  
  
When he came out into the light, she was stunned as well. He was hot. Damn hot. She almost groaned in appreciation of his muscular physique. His muscles were more than hot, they were gorgeous, just.rippling across his bones. He looked like Michelangelo's "David" in running shorts and a tank top.  
  
She knew she knew him from somewhere.somewhere.but she couldn't be quite sure where. She looked at his face, the goatee, the deep set eyes, and the strength.he looked almost like what she imagined Pan would look like. Or Puck.  
  
"Care to stop looking at me like that?" He asked, sinking back into the shadows.  
  
"Sure." She said, then turned to sit. "Who are you?"  
  
"What do you mean?" He asked.  
  
"What's your name?"  
  
"My name is Logan."  
  
"Only one name?"  
  
"One more than you."  
  
"Marie." She said. "My name is Marie Carver."  
  
"Logan Wolfe." He said.  
  
"Interesting name." She commented, leaning back in the chair, and looking at him.  
  
He looked right back at her. "What?"  
  
"I know you." She said. "Who are you?"  
  
"None of your business." He said.  
  
"Fine." She replied. "How old are you?"  
  
"Twenty-two." He said.  
  
"So, tell me about yourself."  
  
"Kid, just because I said you could stay the night didn't mean that I'm going to be social."  
  
"Fine." She said, then she looked around. "There's only one bed Logan."  
  
"So?" He asked. 


	4. Asleep yet?

Forever in your arms, Chapter Four.  
  
"I'm not sleeping on the floor, if that's what you mean. Tommorow is a big day. I need to be rested." She looked at him, then looked away, paused, then looked back. "Wait, stay right there, for just a second." He sat still, trying to humor her. She ran to her bag and grabbed a CD from somewhere in the stashes of clothing and cosmetics. "Oh my God." She said. "You're the Wolverine. You're the fucking Wolverine." She dropped the CD. She started pacing. "I just kissed the fucking Wolverine." Then she sat down, straight to the floor. "Shit." Her voice got sad, useless, defeated. "Shit, I should have known." She dropped her elbows to her knees, and her head into her hands. "I should have known." She said, and then collapsed into tears. He looked at her-this vixen, who, for God-knows-what reason was crying on the floor of his hotel room-and shrugged, then walked into the bathroom. When he was done with his shower twenty minutes later, he looked at the clock. Which read, in bright blue, neon letters: 11:03. Then he looked at Marie. He'd expected her to be gone. But, for some reason, he was glad that she wasn't. He prayed to God that she was sleeping, then picked her up, and slid her small body in between the sheets of the bed. "Sleep sweet." He said, for no particular reason, and then moved to lay beside her. But, for an hour, he couldn't sleep. He just kept wondering why he'd done this. Why he'd brought a runaway-an unbelievably sexy runaway-into his hotel room on the night before the biggest day of his life. He hadn't even known she was a vixen before he had brought her. Maybe it *had* been that he'd been there before. But he doubted it. Even if you've been broke, you don't always give to the poor. Maybe it had been her voice. She was so, southern, she sounded like a siren. Maybe that had been it. But he really had no idea. He was attracted to her. That had been why he had been so nice to her But he didn't believe in anything like supernatural meeting of "soul mates" or anything like that. He knew he'd be alone forever. So, he just didn't know. At all. But he couldn't take it back now. He would just have to deal with her in the morning. But, before he could go to sleep, he heard her calling out weakly. "Please, no, no, please, stop it." 


	5. Truths

Forever in Your Arms, Chapter Five  
"Marie, baby, come on, come out of it." Logan sighed, then turned over, and began to shake her. "Wake up kid, come on." She groaned, shifting uncomfortably in her sleep. "WAKE UP!" He screamed, desperate to get her out of her nightmare. "Wake up." He kneeled over her, then, in a desperate last measure, lay on top of her, and kissed her.  
  
She came up thrashing. "Get off of me!" She screamed.  
  
"I'm sorry." He said. "I'm sorry, you were having a nightmare.I couldn't get you out of it.I didn't know what to do."  
  
"So you *kissed* me?"  
  
"I don't know why I did it." He said. "I just did."  
  
"I'm sorry." She said suddenly. "I should be thanking you rather than yelling at you."  
  
"It's ok." He said. "Listen, I'll sleep on the floor if you'd like, I don't want to make you uncomfortable."  
  
"I'm putting you out." She said. "You've let me into your room, and now I'm putting you out."  
  
"It's ok." Logan replied. "I probably won't sleep anyhow."  
  
"Because of me." She said.  
  
"No, because of the concert tomorrow." He replied. "It's win or lose from here on out."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"I mean, well, up to now we've been tremendously popular." Marie snorted. "Yeah, so, if we don't deliver at this concert, we'll be done for. Maybe not totally over, but mainly, yes." Logan paused for a moment. "I don't think I would live through that."  
  
"Why not?" She asked. "You could always become a model."  
  
He laughed heartily. "Right, that's going to happen."  
  
"You've got the body for it." She said. "The face." She paused. "It would be easy."  
  
"I am not cut out for pretty boy stuff like that." He sat up. "That's more Scooter's style."  
  
"Who?"  
  
"Scott." She looked confused. "Cyclops." He said. "Guitarist."  
  
"Oh." She replied. "I don't actually know much about the band." She paused. "I got the first CD out of curiosity, liked the music, and got the rest of them when they came out."  
  
"Oh." He said. "Then, um." Logan paused, wondering if it was a good time to bring it up. Well, if this wasn't it, there wouldn't be one. ".Why did you freak out-before?"  
  
"It's nothing." She said. "You don't have to play psych too."  
  
"Okay." He said. "Night then." He got off the bed, and turned off the light.  
  
"You don't have to sleep on the floor."  
  
"It's ok. I will anyhow."  
  
"No." Marie sat up awkwardly. ".I want you to sleep on the bed. It'll make me feel better."  
  
"Do you mean it?"  
  
"I said it, didn't I?" She replied.  
  
"Ok." He said. Then he climbed back up on the bed.  
  
"I'm not going to be able to sleep." She said. "I never can after I've had a nightmare."  
  
"It's ok. I won't be able to either. We can talk."  
  
"So." Marie asked, turning and facing him. She was just able to make out his profile. "Let's play one of those games." She said. "The ones where we ask questions, and we both have to answer them."  
  
"Fine with me." He answered automatically. He never played fair anyways. There were some things people didn't need to know. "I'd like to get to know you better.seeing as how we're sharing a bed."  
  
"Okay." She said. "You first."  
  
"Happy childhood?" Came out of his mouth before he could stop it.  
  
"No." She said.  
  
"Me either." He replied, there was an uncomfortable silence while they both wondered what had happened to the other.  
  
"If you could do anything, what would it be?" She asked, moving a centimeter closer to him. "Anything at all."  
  
"I'd shock the hell out of everyone when the concert goes flawlessly tomorrow." He said, trying to look away from her.  
  
"I mean really." Marie replied, reaching out to touch his shoulder.  
  
"I'd be normal."  
  
"No one wants that." She said, sensing that there was something else. "Behind door number three?"  
  
"Right now." He said, trying to sound casual, when he was anything but.  
  
"Go on." She said, leaning in closer to him.  
  
"I'd make love with you."  
  
She gulped in air, trying not to let him see how shocking that was to her, how arousing. Then, after a bit of a pause, she choked out. "It's your turn again."  
  
"You never answered the last question." He said.  
  
"I'd have a place in the world where I wasn't bad or wrong, or stupid. Where I could just be me, and nothing else would matter." She replied, hoping he would scoot just a little closer to her. Even if what she was feeling wasn't real, she liked it. And it might just be a part of that place where she was just her. Instead of waiting on him, she crawled an inch to him.  
  
"Virgin?" He asked for no particular reason.  
  
"Yes." Marie said simply.  
  
He gagged. Not the response he'd expected. "Darlin', you don't tell men that kind of thing." He replied once he'd gotten his breath back. "And for me, it's a no."  
  
"Hummmm." She said, leaning her elbow onto the bed, and her cheek onto her hand. "Biggest lie ever?"  
  
"I told Charles that I had previous musical experience on my resume so that he'd let me sing for him."  
  
"That I was sorry I kissed you."  
  
"Right." He said, noticing her progression toward him. Apparently Marie did want him on the bed with her. He scooted an inch and a half closer to her, then reached out and pulled her hand from his shoulder into his hand.  
  
He was getting why she'd asked to play this game real quick. A get-to-know- you, and a flirt at the same time.  
  
"Would you sleep with me?" He asked, suddenly desperate to know.  
  
"If we know each other for a bit longer, and we still like each other." She replied, and then cocked her head at him.  
  
"In a heartbeat." He said, then leaned over and took her lips in a searing kiss. Once he slid his tongue out of her mouth, and she had stopped panting, she sighed, and lay down so that her right hip was pressing against his pelvis.  
  
"If I asked you, and it was possible, would you take me with you wherever you're going next?"  
  
"That's no fair." He said, and put his arm around her shoulder. "You can't answer that one."  
  
"You can ask me something else." She said. "Something you don't have to answer."  
  
"Okay." He said. "I don't know." He paused, then decided that if he was going to tell her any of it, he might as well go all the way. "I don't typically sleep with girls I can talk to. My daddy taught me that." Then he paused as she moved away. "But you're different. I don't know why. And I want to find out. So I guess I would."  
  
She kissed him softly. "Thanks. Now it's your turn."  
  
"Did you want me before you met me?"  
  
"I found you attractive, yes. But I didn't know *you*, so I didn't want you."  
  
"Good." He said. "So, whose turn is it now?"  
  
"Yours." She said, then paused, and rolled over so that the entire length of her body was pressed against his. "I do want you now though." She whispered.  
  
He paused, then said: "Are you afraid of me?"  
  
"Yes." Marie said. "But only because I've never felt this way before, and I'm afraid it's only because you're so drop dead gorgeous." She turned her back to his chest, and wrapped his arms around her chest, so that she was holding his hands in hers. "You?"  
  
"Yeah." Logan replied. "Because I've never wanted someone this bad this quick, and I've never been able to talk to someone so easily. Because you're the most outrageously gorgeous girl that I've ever met, and you're a virgin."  
  
"Truth or dare?" She asked.  
  
"Dare." He said, wondering why she had switched all suddenly.  
  
"Kiss me again." She said, and turned around in his arms.  
  
He did kiss her, until she couldn't breathe anymore, and until she was shuddering from it.  
  
Then he pulled away, and trailed kisses all over her face. "Dare." Marie said.  
  
"Go to sleep." Logan replied. "I'll still be here."  
  
"Okay." She replied drowsily and turned back around into his arms so that they were spooning. "Sleep sweet." She trailed off.  
  
And they both did. 


	6. Veneer

Forever In Your Arms, Chapter Six.  
  
At seven thirty the next morning, the phone trilled. Logan rolled over impatiently. "What?"  
  
"Wake up call, Mr. Wolfe. Seven thirty."  
  
"Call me back in ten minutes.please."  
  
"You told me yesterday not to allow you not to wake up. Now please wake up Mr. Wolfe."  
  
"Fine." He grumbled. Then he turned back to where Marie should be.  
  
But she wasn't there.  
  
He should have known. He pours his heart out.well, maybe just a little.to a girl, and she leaves.  
  
That was what he was supposed to do. Not her.  
  
"Shit." He said, then rubbed his eyes, and sat up. "Figures." Then he slid off the bed, closed his eyes, and pulled out his jeans and his shirt. White for the day. He kicked the bed. She wasn't supposed to leave. He liked her, for some reason, he didn't even know her all that well-no, he didn't even know her at all.  
  
She wasn't supposed to leave.  
  
He'd probably been too.forward, aggressive, something. He had made it too clear that he wanted to make love with her, and kissed her until she couldn't even remember her own name.  
  
"Shit." He said, kicking the bed again. He'd wanted to help her. Genuinely wanted to help her. God, and then he'd screwed it up for not only her, but himself as well. He'd never met someone he liked like that. Like she just understood, and he didn't have to explain anything.  
  
He kicked the bed one last time for good measure, then made his way to the bathroom.  
  
But the door was locked.  
  
What? He snarled, then tried it again. But it was still locked. Then, he smiled.  
  
She was in there.  
  
Thank God. She hadn't left. He was almost happy enough to turn cartwheels, but he didn't know how, and didn't really want to seem that pleased.  
  
But he was.  
  
And he was suddenly grateful that there was a sink outside of the main bathroom. He pulled out his razor and carefully shaved off the nights stubble.  
  
Then he brushed his teeth, and combed his hair, and generally stalled until she came out.  
  
"Oh!" She half screamed. "You startled me."  
  
He couldn't help himself, and so, pulled her to him. "I'm so glad you stayed." He said.  
  
"Why wouldn't I have?" She asked, shaking out her hair. It felt so nice to finally have been able to take a full shower, not stopping to listen for a truck coming, actually shaving, for the first time in, who knows how long.  
  
"I was.a bit out of line, last night."  
  
She blushed, remembering a couple of things he had said. "I started it." She said, then smiled. "Besides, we'll never see each other again after now, will we? So, there's nothing to be worried about."  
  
".about that." He said, loosening his embrace, and tilting her head up so that she was facing him. "Were you serious about coming with me?"  
  
"I know you can't. Don't worry about it."  
  
Logan sighed. "I don't." He pulled her to him again, savoring the scent of her hair, the feel of her body against his. "I don't know if I could live with myself if I left you on your own. Not when I could do something to help."  
  
She sighed, and snuggled into his warmth. "I'll be okay." She said. "I don't want to ruin anything in your life for you."  
  
"I'll figure something out." He said as if it was the most natural thing in the world. "Stay here today, okay. Just stay in the room. I'll figure some way to get you backstage for the concert if you want to watch, and you can order room service if you want.the staff here is very respectful of privacy.and, just, please, trust me, okay?"  
  
"Logan, I've known you for less than twenty-four hours."  
  
"I know." He said. "I just, I can't lose you this soon. Not when I don't even know you well enough to know why I am feeling the way I am for you."  
  
Marie breathed in deeply. "As much as I want to say no-that I can make it on my own, and that I don't need you to help me-I'm curious too." She curled her fingers around his arms, and looked up at him again. "I'll stay." She said, then kissed him softly on the lips. "I have no idea why I just agreed to that."  
  
"I do." He said.  
  
"What's that then?" She asked.  
  
"I think I might be falling for you."  
  
She looked up at him, thinking he was joking. Hoping he wasn't.  
  
She was shocked to see what was in his eyes. "You're serious?" She asked.  
  
"Yeah." He said, then sighed. "Hell of a mess, isn't it?"  
  
"Only a little." She said, then kissed him again. "I think I'm falling for you too."  
  
He pulled her to him, roughly, planted a quick kiss on her lips, and then combed his fingers through her hair. "This is weird isn't it?" He asked. "I've only known you for.less than a day."  
  
"Babe." She said, shocking herself with the endearment. "Not much good has happened in either of our lives. Can't we just take this one thing, and, let it be?"  
  
"Sure." He said. "I have to take a shower. Promise me you'll still be here when I come out."  
  
"I promise." She said, smiling, and then she kissed him softly.  
  
He walked briskly into the bathroom, and took a quick shower. Thinking about her. He had no idea how anything could move that fast, seem that right, and still be so confusing. But he was happy it had happened.  
  
When he came out, she was laying on the bed, reading a magazine he had had lying around. "Hey." He said huskily. "Wanna have breakfast?"  
  
She looked up at him and smiled. She felt weird about the speed too, but if that was the way it had to be, that was the way it had to be. "Sure."  
  
"What do you want?" He asked, throwing her the room service menu.  
  
She looked through it, her eyebrows furrowed, her right elbow propped on her knee, and her jaw balanced on her fist. "Eggs Benedict." She said, throwing the menu back at him.  
  
But, before he could pick up the phone, there was an insistent knocking at the door.  
  
"Shit." He said calmly, and then walked over to the door, looked out of the peephole, and then looked back at Marie, who looked at him, asking what she should do. "Hide, somewhere, the bathroom."  
  
She did so, and then he opened up the door. "Charles." He said.  
  
"Logan." He said. "I've got some things I want to talk to you about."  
  
"Yeah." Logan said.  
  
"I know how important today is to you, and I just want you to know that I have confidence in you. I know you won't screw this up. And neither will the others."  
  
"Thanks." He said. "I guess I should be confidant too, but, well, it's hard, coming from where I come from."  
  
"Yes." Charles said. "I understand that. But to succeed, you must be confidant in what you are doing."  
  
"I am." Logan said. "Really."  
  
Then, there was a clatter from the bathroom. A soft voice said a harsh word, and then shut up. And then Charles looked around, really looked around. "You brought a woman here." He said, and turned to Logan. His disapproval was evident in his voice.  
  
"Charles, you don't understand."  
  
"The hell I don't." He said, and pulled open the bathroom door. Marie was standing there, wearing nothing but a hotel robe.  
  
She blushed, and Charles looked back at Logan. He closed the door.  
  
"She can't be more than sixteen." He said softly. "You could be arrested, you know." His voice was raising. "For someone who acts so concerned about what is going to happen to the band, you're sure screwing it up royally."  
  
"She's eighteen." Logan said, "And we didn't.it's not what you're thinking."  
  
"Right." Charles said. "I see a sixteen year old girl, in your room, wearing next to nothing, after taking a shower, and I'm supposed to think it's not that?"  
  
"Charles." Logan said. "I found her last night, on the grounds." He was whispering. "She doesn't have a room, she doesn't have a family. And she's eighteen."  
  
"Right, and having sex with a runaway is supposed to endear you to the press? Logan, you know how hard I've tried to keep all of this on the up and up."  
  
"We didn't have sex." He said. "Listen, you know I've been there. And, you know that as much as I try not to let it out, I've got a soft side. Ask her yourself, we didn't have sex."  
  
Charles opened the door. "Did you have sex with him?" He asked outright.  
  
Marie had heard the conversation, but wasn't about to think that this man, whoever he was, actually thought that she was sixteen, and a whore. "No." She said.  
  
"Fine then." He said. "If you insist. But, I want you out of this room in an hour, and then I never want to see you again."  
  
Marie backed up, a little hurt look on her face.  
  
"That's the thing." Logan said. "I want to bring her with us."  
  
"And you expect me to believe that you've not had sex?"  
  
"We haven't." He said. "I just, I don't want to leave her. I've been there, remember. If I hadn't had Caroline to pull me up, I'd still be running."  
  
"She's eighteen, she can take care of herself."  
  
"You've never been there Charles, you don't understand how it is if you've got a pack on your back, and that's all you have. Living off of other people's charity can only get you so far." He walked over to Marie, and pulled her out of the bathroom, then pushed her into the main area, with directions to get dressed. "Besides, Carole quit last week, and, as you said then, I need someone to keep me in line."  
  
Charles smiled a bit, but then shut it down. "Fine." He said. "But you're not staying in the same room, and if I catch you in the same room, in a situation anything like this. I'm giving her her walking papers."  
  
"Okay." Logan said. He wasn't sure exactly how that would work, as he was not about to let her out of his sight for any extended amount of time, but if that was the only way.it was the only way.  
  
"Also." Charles said. "I'm not paying her to do a job that doesn't need to be done.you've got to support her."  
  
"Okay." He said. "But I'm not freaking paying for her to have a different room."  
  
Charles, ever too dignified to roll his eyes, brushed some lint off of his suit, and then turned to face Logan. "I'll book you for a two bed room from now on then.but if I ever, and I mean ever, have reason to think that you have had sex with her.she's gone."  
  
"Okay." He said. "Fine."  
  
Charles walked to the door, and as he did, Marie walked out of the main room. Logan's eyes were glued to Charles, but Charles could see that Logan knew she was there, and there was a softness, and a tenderness in them that made him wonder if "The Wolverine" would finally be losing the edge that made him snap.  
  
The thought made him smile. 


	7. Threshold

Forever in Your Arms, Chapter Seven.  
  
By the time the concert began, Logan had cajoled, prodded, and finally begged Marie to come to it. Okay, probably not begged, but at least acted sufficiently sad so that she would feel guilty if she didn't.  
  
And so she did. And that was really all that mattered to him.  
  
It was minutes until he went on, and they were standing behind a pillar, talking. "Break a leg." She said, and reached up around his neck. "I'm glad you convinced him to let me stay."  
  
"He knew I wouldn't let you leave." He said, putting his hands gently on her waist. Did it feel as good to her as it did to him to have his hands on her, hers on him? The feeling of heat on heat, flesh on flesh. "Logan!" Charles' voice bellowed out. "On cue in three."  
  
"I need to go soon." He said. "But watch, okay, and." He paused, worried about if he should say what he wanted to say. "There'll be a lot of girls back here after the concert is over.but I'll be looking for you." He slid his lips lightly over hers. "Only you."  
  
"You too." She said, and returned his kiss. "Do good."  
  
"I will." He said, and with a last glance, he slipped away onto the fog filled stage.  
  
The music that flowed out of his mouth was pure liquid, purely poetic, she couldn't listen to the words, and she couldn't listen to the others, just his voice, just the music flowing out of his mouth and into her ears. Just him.  
  
And afterward it was just like he said it would be. Just like what he said, girls in tight dresses and crop tops flirting with the guards to get backstage, some with passes, and him standing there, watching her as he talked to Charles and some members of the press. Her waiting for him to be finally done, and what seemed like a thousand young men watching her.  
  
"Done." He said, and sidled up to her, "Want to hitch a ride out of here?"  
  
He was playing with her, she was sure, and that was fine with her. "Sure." She said. "Where to?"  
  
His eyes flared as he realized that she knew what he was doing. "Anywhere you want, babe." He said, and every man who had been watching them turned his eyes away in disgust. And every girl sighed.  
  
Charles pretended not to notice when his arm slipped around her waist, and they walked out the back doors to the waiting limo.  
  
After a dignified entrance into the backseat of the car, she started laughing. His arm stayed around her waist, and her laughter elevated higher until she was laughing her heart out. "That was great." She said. "I haven't had that much fun in ages."  
  
"No." He said. "Me either."  
  
Then she leaned in, and planted her lips gently on his. "You did a wonderful job." Her voice flowed like water into his dried up soul. "I couldn't see anything else, couldn't hear anyone else. Just you."  
  
He smiled against her lips, and then sunk his tongue between them. "Good." He said, then began to kiss her again, parting his lips, moving his mouth to her cheek, her chin, her neck. His hands slid over her waist. She was so slim. "Are you hungry?" he asked.  
  
"What?" her eyes were glossed over as she looked up at him.  
  
"Hungry, are you hungry?"  
  
"No." She said. "Unless you think of your mouth as food." She smiled a little bit, and then leaned over him, pushing him down on the seat, sliding her tongue over his lips. "I'm so hungry for you." She said. "Kiss me, please."  
  
His hands found their way to her waist, hers slid over his shoulders, and he pulled her to him desperately. "You make me so crazy." His voice was rough and husky. "You make me insane with wanting you." Her chest was heaving against his, her muscles shaking.  
  
"It's so fast." She said, her lips slowly riding up to his temples. His pelvis thrust up to hers, and she groaned. "I've never done this before." He smiled against her throat, and then began to suck at it. She could hardly find her voice. "Don't.oh God, oh God, oh God."  
  
He flipped her over, and his thumbs roughly sped over her nipples. She closed her eyes in ecstasy, gasped, and as he thrust his erection into her, she melted.  
  
Her eyes gasped for air, and her throat closed. She had never, ever, felt anything like this.  
  
He smiled, she was falling apart, falling apart in his arms, for the first time-he was sure-with a man, and it was him.  
  
For some reason, he reveled in that. "You okay?" he asked, once her body stopped shaking, and her eyes fluttered open.  
  
Her skin was stained rose, and her eyes flitted away. But her mouth was creasing just a bit, turning up into an embarrassed smile. His lips once again found her neck, and she started laughing. "Logan, you're so." Her breath drew in slightly, and quickly as the car stopped.  
  
Questions flooded her mind as the door started to open: Would there be people outside, watching them? Did she look like she had just fallen apart? Would Charles really tear them apart if he found out they were having sex- or if not having sex, close to it? Would they have sex tonight?  
  
Tonight.  
  
It was possible. And the possibility scared her, just a little bit.  
  
He got out of the car, and then pulled her with him. There was no one there, they were at the back entrance again. She smiled, he closed the door, and the limo sped away. "Let's go upstairs." He said, and she giggled as he pulled on her hand.  
  
They ran up the stairs again, only this time, neither was winded as they reached the top, she was smiling coyly, and he was looking at her, just looking at her.  
  
He pulled a key out of his pocket, and quickly opened the door. She started to walk inside, but he didn't let her, instead, he swept her into his arms, and kissed her again as they crossed the threshold. 


	8. Pain

Note: This chapter begins the much "less light and fluffy" section of this story. Sorry for all of you who wanted this to go easy, but love is a dangerous angel.  
  
Forever in Your Arms, Chapter Eight.  
  
Once they were in the room, she started laughing again. He set her down on the bed, and she kept laughing, laughing and laughing.  
  
And then she couldn't breathe anymore. She wasn't laughing, and he couldn't hear her breathing. "Marie?" He asked, and walked over to her, she was curled up, her stomach muscles shaking, and her eyes watery. She was trembling, crying, he wanted to slam his fingers in the door. This was because of him.  
  
His hand reached out to stroke her hair. She cringed away from him. "Don't touch me," her voice rang out, and he cringed. "Don't touch me, don't touch me, don't touch me." She trailed off, whimpering.  
  
His muscles broke, he couldn't move. He slammed into the floor next to the bed and leaned against it. She'd been begging for him to kiss her, and now she was begging for him not to touch her. A single thought fell into his brain: she was playing. She was one of those girls with a plan; she was a fan, someone who wanted to screw with his mind. His father had something to do with it. But she looked so sad. So truly afraid, of him. His arm trembled, and he lifted it to the bed, then he heaved himself up, and walked slowly to the bathroom. He pulled out is shaving case, and slowly slid the razor out. Then he pulled off his jacket, and rolled up the sleeve to his tee-shirt. He slid his left hand to the back of his neck, exposing the tender skin underneath his bicep. He placed the razor down on the skin, and slid it back and forth, with just enough friction to break the skin below it.  
  
And he felt nothing. *Nothing*  
  
He peeled back the layers of skin, picking them beneath his fingernails, and scraping them down until blood was beading at the skin, and he could see his veins pumping the blood back to his heart.  
  
A heart that could feel nothing.  
  
He cut again, over a layer of familiar scars, and slid his fingers over them. He cut again, until the blood made his hands look like those of a murderer. Then he turned the tap, smearing blood over stainless steel, and rinsing away the reminders of his failed attempt. He pulled a roll of gauze from the bottom of his shaving kit, and wrapped it around his arm. It would be healed enough in the morning that he could take the gauze off, and if he kept his arms down, no one would notice.  
  
He went into the bathroom, and climbed into the bathtub. His back was against the hard porcelain, and tears that he would not shed gathered at the corners of his eyes. On the other side of the wall, Marie, curled up into a ball wondered why she couldn't let him touch her. Not tonight.  
  
~*~  
  
In the morning, the wake up call sounded at eight, and neither of them answered it.  
  
At eight fifteen, there was a banging at the door, neither of them answered it.  
  
At eight twenty, keys clicked into the lock, and turned. The door opened, and a voice called out: "Logan, get your lazy ass up and out of bed. We've got rehearsal in forty minutes!"  
  
The man at the door was looking through red-tinted glasses, so he *did* not see the smears of blood on the sink, and he *could* not see the little girl, trapped in a prison, as she looked at him in the reflection of the mirror.  
  
But she saw the blood, and after he left, she began to cry again.  
  
~*~  
  
"Logan, wake up." She said.  
  
His eyes, rimmed in red, though moving, did not open. "Go away." He said.  
  
"I just."  
  
"Get out." His eyes opened, and looked to the wall besides her. "Just leave, Marie."  
  
She blinked a couple of times, and then turned. "I'll be out in a couple of minutes." She said. How could this have degenerated so fast? She wondered, maybe it was because it had come together so fast, maybe it was as it had always been before. Her fault.  
  
She walked into the bedroom, and pulled her stuff together, stuffed her clothes into her bag, and slung it over her shoulder. By the time she was at the door, the sink was clean, and he was brushing his teeth, the gauze was in the trashcan. She turned to him, with her hand on the doorknob, and opened her mouth. Then she blinked twice, and absorbed his face into her mind for one last memory. "I'm sorry." She said, and then let herself out.  
  
The hall seemed so empty, and she was the only one there, the only person out of place. Her clothes were not clean, her hair was not brushed, she was not normal. Her hand reached for the handle to the door leading downwards, she opened it, and then leaned against the cold cement wall inside. There was no drywall here, no cover, no lies. Just a structure, a shell, like her, with nothing real inside but bones and air.  
  
Two gasps of the cool air was enough to make her lungs seize up, and she started to cry.  
  
A woman came down the stairs above her. All rock stars must use the stairs, she thought, and tried to make herself invisible.  
  
It didn't work. "Honey, what's wrong?" Said a soothing voice, belonging to the white haired woman standing above her.  
  
"Nothing." She said.  
  
Ororo started to turn away, but she couldn't. The girl was too sad, too dirty, too everything not to have a reason. "Listen, I can help if you would like."  
  
"You don't have to." Marie said. "That's what got me in this situation in the first place."  
  
Two gears clicked in place in Ororo's mind, and her wheels started turning. This girl was the reason Logan had been so outstanding yesterday, why Charles had been fuming. And now what? "I cannot let you stay here." She said. "Not when I can see what happened in the first place."  
  
"Listen, I'm sure Logan will tell you all about it. Now, please, just leave me alone." The door beside them opened, and a scowling man walked through. Marie lifted her hand, and reached out futilely. It dejectedly fell back down. He wouldn't want to, not after last night.  
  
Ororo saw the gesture, and grabbed the girls hand, squeezed it, and then took off after Logan.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
"Logan, please, would you speak with me for just a moment."  
  
"'Ro, we've got practice in five minutes."  
  
"I only need one of them." She said. "Logan, I wish that you would listen."  
  
"Fine." He said, and turned, she was inches from his face, and so he backed up.  
  
"She will not be fine without you." She said. "You know that. There are things that people do not like to tell other people, and there are things that I can tell she wants to tell you." Logan started to turn away, and Ororo placed a hand on his shoulder. "You can't run away from everything you are afraid will hurt, Logan, eventually, you will have to confront those demons. With her, you may be able to defeat them."  
  
Logan looked away from Ororo, and then nodded. "Tell the others I'll be a bit late." He said, and then turned, and walked towards the stairway. 


	9. Walk Away

Forever In Your Arms, Chapter Nine.  
He expected that she wouldn't be there, that she was-as he had thought last night-playing, and that everything Ororo had said, everything she had said to him, even her hand reaching out to him, was fake. But he wanted her to be there. Wanted it desperately. As he walked up the stairs, he wondered if he should look for if she wasn't there, or if that was the point, he wondered if he should try to make it up to her if she was there.  
  
He wondered if she saw the blood on the sink this morning, and knew what was really going on. He wondered if she felt guilty.  
  
It was strange, but he didn't want her to.  
  
His boots made loud clomping noises as he ascended the stairs, his breathing became more and more ragged.  
  
He could hear her crying.  
  
"Marie." He said as he saw her hair-rumpled and shiny-covering her face. She stopped breathing, she didn't look up. "Marie, I'm sorry."  
  
She stood up, and started to walk past him, down the stairs, with her pack slung over her shoulder. "Don't you fucking walk away from me." He said, wrapping his fingers around her arm. "Don't you walk out of my life without a word."  
  
Her head whipped around, eyes full of venom, shining a deeper green than before. "Isn't that what you tried to do?" She asked him. "Didn't you say nothing, didn't you tell me to leave?"  
  
"I." His shoulders fell, he dropped his grip on her arm, "yes."  
  
"Don't ever do that again." She said, slipping her hand under his chin. "I'm messed up inside, I may do things you don't like-I don't like them either-but you can't tell me to walk away, ever again."  
  
No words came out of his mouth, no sound, he only reached for her, slipped his arms around her waist, and crushed him to her. His mouth found her neck, and he started kissing her, where her shoulders joined with her neck, water started to gather in his eyes, and she pulled him closer to her. "Don't cry." She said. "Don't cry, baby, it'll be alright."  
  
"I don't even know you." He said. "I don't even know you, and I would have died if I'd lost you." She lifted her hands to his face, and pulled it close to hers, then she kissed him, and whispered that she would have died too.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
Three hours later, she was lying on the bed, making up for the sleep she'd lost over the night, watching him in the window, sitting sleeplessly, crying. Three hours later, he was working harder and harder on his set, his vocals, his chords. "One more time through, Logan." Said Charles.  
  
"You said that last time, Charles, I worked it one more time through last time. You already let everyone else go."  
  
"We need what you had yesterday, Logan, we won't have facilities like this to practice in for another three days." A sigh emanated from his mouth, and he rolled around the room another time. "You're the only reason we didn't crash and burn yesterday, and you know it. Whatever you had then, though, you've lost it, and I need you to get it back."  
  
"If you fucking let me go, I'll get it back, okay." He growled, and stalked towards the door. Charles said nothing. "Okay?" He asked again.  
  
"Okay." Charles said, nodding. *You had better not be going up to go to bed with the kid, though.* He added in his mind. But, of course, he didn't *really* care.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
The haze of blue comforted Marie as she floated in it, sighing, looping off into dreams. But two pricks of light dotted through the haze, she wanted the light.  
  
"Marie, baby." Said a soft voice on the other side of the hazy curtain. She tried to pull away, but hands were on her, shifting her, pulling her away. Voices whispered in her head, soft, cruel things that she couldn't understand. "Marie." Said the voice, again, she reached out for it, but a hand pulled her back. She couldn't move.  
  
"Let go of me." She said. "Get the fuck away from me." She thrashed, but the hands held her down, pulled her under. "Don't, please, please don't." She wished they would let her go. She wished that they would stop touching her. She wished she could breathe.  
  
"Marie." Said the voice again. "Marie, wake up, wake up."  
  
"Don't touch me." She said. "Just don't touch me." A new set of hands found her, reached through the blue, hazy curtain, and slid around her waist. She sighed, and leaned into these hands. They pulled at her, shifted her body, she leaned.  
  
Marie woke up in Logan's arms, his eyes were closed, and the light falling on them was soft and hazy. "What time is it?" She asked him.  
  
"I don't know." He said, then tilted his face to see hers. "You're awake."  
  
"Yeah." She said. "Usually when I talk, I am."  
  
"No." He said. "You were having a nightmare a couple of minutes ago. You were talking, but I couldn't bring you out of it."  
  
"Feel free to kiss me again." She said. He smiled, and his lips descended on hers. They kissed for a minute, five minutes, an hour. When they pulled out of it, she smiled. "I meant, if I'm having a nightmare."  
  
"Okay." He said. "But never, other than that."  
  
"Logan." She said, laughing.  
  
"Don't laugh." He said harshly. "Listen. I'm serious, if you ever want me not to.touch you, kiss you, anything, I won't." What she'd done last night was wrong, she knew. But she didn't know why she'd done it.  
  
"I know." She said. "Logan, I know you wouldn't force me. But, I just, sometimes, maybe, I don't know why, but I can't let you touch me, sometimes."  
  
"Okay." He said. "Can I touch you now?"  
  
"Logan, you *are* touching me now."  
  
"I meant, well." His grasping for words was endearing, sweet, Marie let him go on. "Last night, I thought, well, hoped, that maybe we would do something, kind of.sexual."  
  
"I know, Logan." She said. "I wanted to, too."  
  
"I meant, that, maybe could we do something, you know."  
  
"Sexual." She said. "Yes, we can.but first, I want to ask you something."  
  
"Yeah?" He said.  
  
He didn't know what she would ask. If he did, he wouldn't have said yes, she was sure of it. "You cut yourself.last night." She breathed in as his eyes went wide and angry. "Why?"  
  
"You won't understand." He said.  
  
"You don't know that." She said.  
  
"I just.I can't tell you."  
  
Anger flooded through her system, but she knew it would get her no where. "If you ever want to." She said. "I'm here."  
  
"Okay." He said, and then slipped his arm around her waist. "I don't want you to do anything." He said, snaking out his tongue to coax her into submission. "Just let me touch you."  
  
She smiled, and nodded as his hands began to slide over her. "I don't want to go too fast." He said, his voice was a bit desperate. "Tell me if I'm going too fast."  
  
"You're not." She said as his lips enveloped hers. "Someday, maybe, but not yet."  
  
His hands slid over her stomach, pulled her shirt up, and kissed her some more. Her stomach muscles were vibrating by the time he had pulled her shirt off, and she wasn't wearing anything at all underneath it. "God, you're beautiful." He said. "I knew it before, but you're beautiful." His mouth slid to her neck, and his fingers worked on the button on her pants. 


	10. Never Before

Forever In Your Arms, Chapter Ten  
Ten minutes later, when she was prone, soaked in sweat and panting, he knew that it was her first.  
  
"You've never come before?" he asked. She whimpered, and he almost laughed as he pulled her to him. "God, you're a gem." He said. Her arms were limp at her sides, but her mouth sought his. Her lips were soft and limp, sighing against his.  
  
"Never." She said.  
  
He couldn't breathe. He couldn't count the number of times he had. He couldn't remember the women, nothing. There was nothing there for any of them. But for her, he was so proud, so grateful, so happy.  
  
"You're gorgeous." He said. "So perfect."  
  
"No I'm not." She whispered, and then she fell asleep.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
The next morning, he was up early, packing his bags. "We're back on the road today." He said when she woke up, sliding over to give her a kiss. "We'll have a few days on the road, and then when we get to the next gig, probably one or two days of half-practice, and then I'll get 'Ro to take you shopping."  
  
"Kay." She said, and struggled to pull herself out of the bed. "God I'm tired."  
  
"That happens." He said, and then threw her some clothes. They were not her clothes.  
  
"'Ro leant me them until we can take you shopping." He was smiling like a loon as she slipped out of the bed and pulled on the clothes.  
  
"You okay?" She asked.  
  
"Yeah." He said. "Yeah, just fine."  
  
From under her lashes, she looked up at him. "I'm sure." She said, and then walked over to him. "If you want, tonight, I'll pay you back a favor."  
  
The way she said it, he knew that she didn't mean she'd pay him back a favor, but that she wanted to make him just as weak as she was right now. "Maybe in a couple of nights." He said. "Sometimes we drive through the nights, and sleep on benches in the bus."  
  
She groaned, then laughed. "Maybe in a couple of nights, then. I'll blow you away." The innuendo was not lost on either of them.  
  
"Good." He said, and then threw her bag to her. "Your toothbrush is still on the counter, and I left all the other girly stuff out in case you want to shower."  
  
"I'll just wash my face." She said, blushing. She was only a little bit shy as she walked up to him and slipped her arms around his neck. Then she kissed him speechless, and walked into the bathroom.  
  
"I'll be out here." He said, and then flopped down on the bed. God, she was so.perfect, so genuinely good. How could her corrupt her like this? 


	11. Interuption

AN: sorry that this took so long in coming. As I may have said before, I was terribly busy with school. Also, as a little side note, someone said that they had sex in the last chapter, which may I say, they did not, they had some sexual contact, but it's not the same thing. So...read, enjoy, review (even if you hated it *frown*) and then I'll be happy and so will you.  
  
Forever in Your Arms Eleven.  
  
The night they got to the next town, she did blow him away, though not with her mouth as the innuendo had suggested, with her hands, gloved in satin and slicking over his skin in crystal perfection.  
  
Ororo took Marie shopping for clothes, and Marie helped the band however she could. Everyone loved her except for one red-haired woman, who ignored her. And at nights, she and Logan would push their beds together and lay with their skin meshing, and breath intertwining.  
  
The places they went were all good. And the concerts were all wonderful, Logan astounded the audience every night, and Marie waited backstage, listening to the lull of his voice.  
  
They both knew not to touch on those nights, and when they wanted to, they reached out for each other and tried, she woke up teary and aching, and he woke up in the bathtub with blood dripping down the drain.  
  
They didn't have sex. Touched sexually rarely, and were both very content.  
  
One evening, Jean knocked on the door. "Logan?" She asked plaintively, and the wood rang out again.  
  
"Go away." He mumbled in his sleep, pulling Marie closer to him.  
  
"Logan, it's important." She said, a clinking noise from the lock praying that she couldn't open the door.  
  
"Fine, just one second." He said, his arms untwisted from Marie, and her fingers gripped his tightly for a moment, then released. He walked to the door. "What do you want?"  
  
"You." She said. "God, Logan, you have to know that I've always wanted you." Her lips were begging for him to kiss her.  
  
Marie heard every word, her eyes closed lightly. She cringed, and shuddered. She'd seen how Logan sometimes looked at Jean, like he was a hungry carnivore and she was raw meat. And Jean would put out, something Marie just couldn't do.  
  
The wet sounds of kissing woke her from her reverie. She clenched her eyes tightly closed, and her jaw even more tightly, her teeth grinding into each other. And her hands begging to meet her ears. She wouldn't be surprised if there was a sudden pressure on the bed, if one of their hands reached out and touched her hair or her face, and didn't even notice. She wanted to whimper, but she couldn't bring her lungs to function. She was no longer hearing.  
  
They'd stopped kissing. Please. Please God, please. She wanted to beg, but for all it had done for her before, she didn't think it would be appropriate. A growled "Get out." Reached her ears, and Marie sighed. She wanted it to be what she thought, just a whim or a whisper, or him being forced.  
  
"Logan, I know you want me.I've seen how you look at me." Said the voice, Marie was certain that Jeans eyes would be begging, Logan's hand would be reaching out for her, and everything in her world would crumble to the ground.  
  
"Don't." She said, softly.  
  
"Get out." Said Logan again. "You're engaged, and I'm not interested."  
  
"What? You think that little girl; that little virgin princess is going to do it for you? I think not." Flesh connected with flesh, and Marie cringed.  
  
"Get out." Logan said, "or I might hit back."  
  
The sound Jean made was between a keen and a whimper, and she walked out the door.  
  
Logan was at Marie's side almost instantly. "Don't.Marie.it's not what you think." Marie shushed and reached out for Logan's face, her thumbs caressed his cheekbones, and he leaned into her hands. "Don't hate me." He said. "I do look at her."  
  
"I know." She said. "I know Logan, and I look at Scott sometimes. I know you want to hate me for that, but you can't, because you do it too and.you know? We're here with each other every night, that's all that matters."  
  
"You're better than I deserve." He whispered, pushing the covers back and sliding under them with her. "I'm an asshole, I want to rip Scott apart because you look at him. I want to rip every guy who looks at you apart. But I can't, see, because then you could kill every woman on this planet."  
  
"Yeah." She said, and slipped her arms around him. They were silent for an eternal moment, and then she spoke again. "Do you think it's true?"  
  
"What?" He asked, nuzzling her neck.  
  
"She said I wont.I mean, she said I'm a virgin princess.do you think it's true?" She turned around, reached out for him. "It's not that I.I mean, I don't try to."  
  
He cut her off. "Marie, don't even say that."  
  
"But I haven't.I can't."  
  
"Listen: I understand."  
  
"I want to." Her arms slipped around him. "You know I want to?"  
  
"Yes." He said. "I do too."  
  
"It's just hard."  
  
"I know."  
  
"Can we try?" She asked.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Anything.touch me. I'll touch you, maybe we can.do it." Her voice was scared. "I don't want you to.you know. Don't leave me. Even if I say to."  
  
"Okay." His voice quivered with desire, and she smiled into his chest.  
  
"I love you." She said. It was the first time she'd said it without any qualifiers.I think, I might, I could.just I love you. He couldn't reply, but his actions said enough, his hands hastened, pulled at her shirt, pushed at her pants, his mouth found hers and suckled her tongue, smiled into her. She shivered at his hands on her breasts, stroking her higher and higher until her fingers were playing helplessly across his back, and she was panting into his hair. "Logan."  
  
"I know." He said, and moved his mouth from her neck to her chest. She couldn't breathe, pleasure filled her. Her hands grasped his head, and he froze. "You ok?" he asked.  
  
"Yes." She said. "Don't.just don't touch me anymore."  
  
"Why?" He asked helplessly.  
  
"I don't know." She said. "I don't know...just don't."  
  
He pulled away, and closed a hand around her hand. "It'll be ok." He said, and then stroked her hair. "Tell me what's wrong."  
  
"I don't know." She said, and whimpered. "Stay here, please, don't leave me."  
  
He nodded, and waited until she drifted off before he crawled onto the floor and fell asleep. 


	12. Exposed

AN: Here's a quick chapter...hope you all enjoy it like happiness. Again it's short, :( I'm sorry... Review *endearing look* and I'll try to make the next one longer.  
  
Forever in Your Arms Twelve.  
  
"For someone so pretty, you sure do make a lot of noise." She said, limply reaching out a hand to Logan. "I want you to stay."  
  
"I can't." he said, and stood up. "Marie, you can't keep doing this to me." He flicked on the lights, and looked down at her. "It's hard enough pretending not to...you know, be together...in public. I can't just...I can't."  
  
"Logan." Her eyes were wide, his were cold. "What? Please." Her voice was desperate, needy.  
  
"Listen, Marie, I know you have some sort of problem, with the touching thing...but it's hard to just let you tell me 'no' and not know why."  
  
"My...it's not easy like that." She closed her eyes and breathed out. "There's...too many things. It's complicated."  
  
"You can tell me, please."  
  
"I can't though!" Her chin was trembling, and he reached out to her, but she cringed away. "I just can't." Looking down, tears started to fall from her eyes. "I just can't."  
  
"Fine." He said. "Maybe I shouldn't have taken you in, huh? Or fed you, or felt for you, or anything."  
  
"Logan..."  
  
"No. You know, I thought that maybe it would be easier if I just let myself feel, let myself get pulled into this whole thing. And then you do this to me?"  
  
"It's not easy for me either, you know, Logan?" She looked up, and her eyes were hard, lucid. "I want to touch you, do...everything with you, I just *can't*."  
  
"Fine." He said. "Why not?"  
  
"I've...my..." Her eyes were pleading with him. "Please don't make me..."  
  
He shook his head. "I need to know."  
  
"When I was young, I had this skin condition...it didn't really cling, and it shed a lot, so it was pretty sensitive, and my mom spent a lot of money trying to treat it...and then one day, she just, she..."  
  
"Shhhh...Marie." Logan pressed a finger to her lips, and sighed. "I'm...sorry...you don't have to go on."  
  
"She hit me." She said. "And she just kept on hitting me, until I was raw...my skin was pretty much gone, not burned off or anything, just...the top layer wasn't there. And then, she beat me again...she wanted more."  
  
"I...I'm sorry."  
  
"No one before you has touched me without that sort of pain. She told me it would hurt like she hurt me, it would always hurt. And I know you've touched me, I know you've touched me everywhere, but...I'm just...afraid, Logan, I'm just afraid."  
  
"You don't have to be." He said. He sat down on the bed. "I'm sorry, I just...I feel so much for you, I want it to be cemented down, real, you know? Even though we can't show anyone."  
  
"Yeah." She said. "I understand, I want to do it, too...I just can't. I'm so sorry." Her eyes were somber, and she reached out for his hand.  
  
He let her pull him to her, and cupped her in his embrace. "We don't have to do anything you're not ready for."  
  
She sighed, and reached behind her to grasp her hand to her chest. "I'm ready for anything but that."  
  
He nodded, and she smiled into the darkness, drifting off to sleep. Once she was asleep, he shifted his hand out of hers, and ran his fingers gingerly over the scars under his arm. "My daddy told me I was a monster, he told me nothing would affect me, ever. He beat me until I couldn't feel the pain. I've never felt love like this. I just want to know if it's real, if you can affect me." 


	13. Changes

AN. Okay, it's some longer, and definitely faster in coming. This is a fun story that I enjoy writing, and hope you enjoy reading. Notice: plot development chapter!!! Feedback is appreciated.  
  
Forever in Your Arms Thirteen.  
  
"It has come to my attention that I'm not truly appriciated in the band." Jean said to the group the next morning. "And I've had offers from other institutions, who'd like me to perform there regularly, or teach there, and, plainly, I feel as if I've reached a plateau in my performing career with you guys."  
  
"Jean..." Scott said, reaching out for her hand. She pulled it away.  
  
"I really am truly sorry about this, but Charles said it was not okay, but that he would stand for it, Lucy can play in my place for any upcoming performances until you find a permenant replacement."  
  
"Jean..." He said again, and she turned from him to look at Logan.  
  
"I think that it came to this for a reason, and I hope to see you all again." She turned, and walked out the door. "I'll be in the room if you want to talk, Scott."  
  
"The hell 'if' I want to talk!" He said, and stormed out after her. "Jean, how could you do this?" He asked faintly. "We are engaged, you know? You could have talked to me about it before making this decision."  
  
Logan turned to Ororo. "So..." He trailed off, unsure of what to say.  
  
"You know no one comes to see her." She said, and then turned away from him. "She's talented, but nothing we can't replace..."  
  
"You know why she did it, don't you?"  
  
Ororo nodded and looked at Logan. "She talked to me about it."  
  
"And?"  
  
"I think you made the right decision, and I think she made the right decision."  
  
"How so?"  
  
"You love Marie, and I think that's significant enough for you to say 'go to hell' when she comes on to you like that...but I also think that it was a good risk for her to take. She's been shielded by Charles and Scott for so long that she doesn't even really know who she is anymore, and it's good for her to risk something to find out that she doesn't know what she truly wants either."  
  
Logan nodded, and turned away. "I have to go tell Marie."  
  
"Okay." Ororo said, and then turned away. She turned back, and smiled at Logan. "You might ask her if she plays the piano."  
  
"What?" Logan asked, his eyebrows scrunched together, eyes confused.  
  
"Just a thought." Ororo said, and then walked away.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
Marie was practically bouncing off the walls when he opened the door to their room. "What's going on?" She asked, shifting her feet beneath her. "I heard all sorts of yelling..." He smiled, and reached out to touch her face softly. She leaned into him, her eyes on his face wide and bright. "What happened?"  
  
"Jean's left the group." He said, and pulled Marie to him, their bodies pressing against each other. "She left Scott, and she didn't tell him anything."  
  
Marie gasped sharply. "I'm so sorry."  
  
"Tell him that." Logan said.  
  
"I will." She said, and then smiled softly at him. "I wouldn't do that to you...you do know that, right?"  
  
He nodded against her shoulder, and then pushed her away. "I'm worried about what'll happen to the band."  
  
"It'll be fine." She said. "you'll find a pianist just as good as her soon, I'd bet."  
  
"I don't know." He said. "She was a good...a respected pianist when she was only thirteen...it'll be hard."  
  
"Not impossible." She said, and looked at him, her eyes silently pleading for what he didn't say.  
  
"Anyhow, now all I need to do is get some rest. It's going to be hell working with another pianist, training and adapting." He sighed. "That really was bad timing on Jean's part."  
  
"Which one? The seduction, or the quitting?" Marie asked, and then lightly shoved him onto the bed. "Sleep good, I'm going to go run...or something."  
  
"Wait!" He said, lying down as she was about out the door. "Something wrong?"  
  
"No." She said. "Not at all."  
  
He nodded off, and then heard the door close. A single thought jumped into his mind that had him sprinting after her. "Marie?" He asked, grabbing her arm after a sprint down the hall. "Do you play the piano?"  
  
For a moment, her eyes were shocked, then pleased, and then hard again. "Yes." She said. "But I'm sure you wouldn't want to play with me, after all, adapting, adjusting, teaching. It'd be too hard."  
  
"No." He said. "Listen, let's go talk to Charles, he'll audition you, if you've got the talent, you'll be in, it'll be wonderful...on stage together, imagine, Marie?"  
  
She sighed. "Logan, I don't really want to. I haven't practiced since I left home...that was ages ago."  
  
"Oh." He said. "Then why are you mad?"  
  
"I'm not mad, Logan, just frustrated."  
  
"About what?"  
  
She looked at him softly, the beige and green on the wall behind his head buffering her to his eyes. She shook her head. "It's nothing, nothing really important."  
  
"Fine." He said. "But, Marie...anything that would get you frustrated, it matters to me, ok? So...I'll be in the room if you want to talk or anything..." The suggestion hung rancidly in the air as he pulled her to him for a slight peck. "See ya."  
  
The smile faded from his face the moment he turned away, and he walked back to the room to lie down sadly on the bed. He closed his eyes, but couldn't make his way into sleep.  
  
A pad of paper lay beside him on the bedside table, along with a pencil, he grabbed them, and doodled, doodles that slowly found their way into words and lyrics and notes, and music.  
  
"I used to be able to  
  
Touch without being touched,  
  
I used to be able to  
  
Give, just that much,  
  
I used to be able to  
  
Cause a thousand tears  
  
Without shedding one,  
  
I used to be able to.  
  
Used to be able to."  
  
He set the paper on the nightstand, face down, and laid the pen on top of it.  
  
Then he closed his eyes, and fell into a fitful sleep.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
"I know you can Play, Marie."  
  
"Me too...imagine...us both knowing."  
  
"I know how good you are."  
  
"Keep that to yourself, okay." She said, and smiled softly. "I haven't practiced in a long time, I'm not quite up to par...I'm not going to play with you, no matter what you want. I already told Logan as much."  
  
"He did ask..." Ororo said, smiling gently. "Listen, Marie, please, don't make me tell Charles you can, against your will...I'll do it, and he'll ask you to play, and he's so persuasive, you won't be able to say no."  
  
"I'll be able to say no if I want to say no."  
  
"Not against him." She said. "He's very persuasive, he brought me over, and my father really didn't want to let me go, he got Logan to change his looks for the band...and if you'd seen him before, you'd understand just how hard that was. You just won't stand a chance, and he'll want you in the band. I want you in the band, and if it takes going to Charles to do it, I will...but I'd like it to be your own choice."  
  
"Fine." She said. "I'll play for him, okay...but not right now." She looked out the window at the still glaring sun. "I need to talk to Logan...tell him I'll come by in an hour or so."  
  
"What am I? Your messanger?" Ororo asked, and Marie turned back to her, stunned. "Kidding, Marie, kidding. I'll tell him, but in an hour, you'd better show."  
  
"I will." She said. "I will..." Her voice faded as she walked away, and she smiled against the wall as she opened the door to Logan and her room.  
  
The lights were off, but the sunlight still streamed through the window, onto the bed where he lay.  
  
He was sleeping, which was unexpected. But more unexpected was his tossing and turning, his body was vibrating under the sheets he was so restless. "Logan?" She asked, and laid a hand on his cheek. The warmth caused her to draw her hand back, and she was shocked at the expression on his face as she touched him again: anger, fear, hatred. "Logan?" She asked again, this time anxiously. "Logan, are you okay?"  
  
"Leave me the fuck alone." He said, and then thrashed wildly at her.  
  
"Logan?" She asked, and put her hands on his shoulders. "Logan, wake up, it's a nightmare, baby, you'll be okay, just wake up."  
  
His hand met her face before his eyes did, and she gasped as the print of his open hand bloomed on her skin. He awoke. "Marie?" He gasped as he saw the red on her cheek. "Marie...what happened?"  
  
"It was...oh..." His hands grasped her waist, and he pulled her to him desperately. "You, Logan, it was you."  
  
"I..." His voice was scared, questioning.  
  
"Yes." She said, and then caressed his face with her free hand. "I know you didn't mean to, you were sleeping, Logan...don't worry about it."  
  
But he already was. "Shit!" He said, and pushed her away, leaping up from the bed into the clean air of the room. He was suffocating. How could he have done that to her? This innocent, pure, beautiful girl. She had a handprint on her face, his, the exact size and shape of his hand. "Shit."  
  
Her arms were locking around him as he tried to turn and face her, to face up to every explanation and apology he would have to make. "I'm so..."  
  
"Logan!" She interrupted harshly. "It's not your fault, okay. Give it up."  
  
He pulled out of her grasp, and then hoisted her into his arms. "Marie...I'm so sorry, I know you don't blame me, but it's still me that did it, and I want you...if I'm dreaming, ever again, don't come near me. I could get a lot more violent than that if I think you're..." He dropped off abruptly. "Well, just try to stay away from me if I'm like that, okay?"  
  
She didn't push him, and for that he was grateful, but he knew she suspected something. The words: 'you think I'm who?' were on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn't say it to him, couldn't bring anything like that up again. "I will." She said. "But, please, don't push me away anymore...I know this is why, and Logan, if you want, I can talk about it with you. We've both had hard times, and it's not difficult to admit that I don't know what to do...I don't think you know what to do...if anyone can help, we can help each other, okay?" He paused, and looked at her. For a moment. "We can do it together." She said, and then cupped his cheek in her hand.  
  
"Okay." He said, and then sat on the bed, pulling her to him. "Okay." 


	14. It happens

A/N: So this is the chapter where you learn the *big* Marie-secret. It has a kind of squicky part in it, and I'll bullet the "~ ~ ~" between them with *'s so it looks like this "~ * ~ * ~" But I don't recommend skipping it because it's important to the plot. Just wanted to issue a warning. Also, this is a kind of different take on Marie than most people have...but it doesn't differ from the rest of the story. Anyhow, I hope you enjoy it.  
  
Forever in Your Arms Fourteen.  
  
"So, what do you play?" Charles asked Marie as she sat at the piano, Logan sat behind her in another chair, and Charles wasn't fooled.  
  
"Clasical, popular, sometimes jazz, I can play a couple of the groups songs."  
  
"Okay." Charles said. "Play one of them, now." She smiled softly and set her hands on the keys.  
  
They flew, shaking from nerves, her hands glided across the ivory keys like birds. Logan's mouth fell open. Charles nodded and smiled softly, he set a hand on her shoulder and said "That's good." She nodded, and set her fingers gingerly on her thighs. "Where did you learn to play?" He asked.  
  
"Well, my first lesson was in elementary school, then my mother got me lessons at a...I don't know, it was sort of a studio, through middle school and the first couple years of highschool, and then..." She trailed off. "I just play whenever I can, now."  
  
"Okay." Charles said. "Good..." He smiled, and then asked her if she'd ever played 'Summertime.'  
  
"No." She said, and wringed her fingers together when he turned away.  
  
"Good." He said handing her a packet of sheet music. "Take this for tonight, and tomorrow I want you to play it for me, flawlessly."  
  
She gasped, and Logan gawked at him. "Okay." She said, and then smiled.  
  
"We're done now." He said, and turned away. Logan stood up, and grasped her hand as she stood. They walked out the door together, and down the hall to their room.  
  
"I need to go practice." She said. "It'll take me a couple hours to nail the prelims...I'll probably be back for dinner, or whatever..." She smiled, and kissed him softly. "Come and get me if you want..."  
  
Logan nodded tersely, and watched her as she walked away. Charles had been on him for a couple days to come up with some new song concepts, and so he would so as to stop himself from missing him on this rare chance to actually relax.  
  
In the room, he sat down to write, and grabbed the hotel notepad on the nighttable, as he fished a pencil out of the drawer, he looked at what was already written on the page.  
  
In his jerky scrawl were the words he remembered writing before he'd gone to sleep that afternoon, and beneath them, in Marie's loopy caligraphy were the words. "I could spend forever in your arms." And a heart.  
  
Logan laughed, and ripped the page off, stuffing it in his guitar case, he pulled out a pad of staff-paper and outlined the notes the song would be in, tempo, rhythm, time, words...then he folded the paper up with the lyrics, and stuffed it under his guitar.  
  
Maybe something less lovey-dovey.  
  
For the next four hours he worked on two different ideas he had, and when he was done, he looked at the lyrics, the notes, and wondered why they were melancholy. And Lovey-dovey.  
  
Just then, the door sounded that someone was outside, and he stood up. The kinks in his back popped one by one and snuggled back into their correct places in his spine as he reached his arms over his head and walked slowly to the door.  
  
On the other side was-not as he had hoped-Jean.  
  
"Hello." He said, not altogether kindly. "Why are you here?"  
  
"I just wanted to stop by, say hello, say goodbye, you know...ask if you wanted to fuck now that your little princess toy is off busy somewhere." The third statement was as vicious as it was blatant.  
  
"I'm a little busy right now for something like that." He said, and smiled. "In fact, I was just about to go find *Marie* and take her to dinner."  
  
"Well then." Jean said, her eyes twinkling with malice. "Let's see how you like her when you find out about this..." She pulled a file from her bag, and shoved it at him, smirking. "Have a good time with it...and if you change your mind about me, I'll be in room 318."  
  
"I won't." He said, and threw the folder on the table in their room, and then went off to find Marie.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
She grunted as they fell against the floor inside the doorway. "Logan..." She groaned, and smiled into his lips. "Bed...now." He hitched his right leg between hers, and stood them up. Marie's feet found each other behind his back, and Logan swung them onto the bed, she rolled on top of him, and propped herself up on his chest until she could see his eyes. "We can." She said.  
  
"...can?" He asked, her leg between his clouding his judgment.  
  
"Yes." She said. "Tonight, now."  
  
He blinked three times, and then smiled at her. "Good." He said, and then pulled her down to kiss her.  
  
~ * ~ * ~ (begins)  
  
She was crying as he moved inside her, twinges and aches of pain resonating down her spine. She couldn't breathe, and as his lips locked with hers, and he felt the wetness of her tears, he stopped moving. "Marie...what's wrong?"  
  
"It just..." She gasped harshly as he shifted inside her. "...hurts, it just hurts is all."  
  
"What?" He asked angrily. "Why didn't you say so before?"  
  
"I didn't want to..." She almost screamed at the burning friction as he pulled out of her. "...I didn't want to disappoint you again."  
  
"You wouldn't do that...couldn't." His arms came around her as she started to cry again, and he buried his face in her hair as she burrowed into his chest.  
  
And as she cried into him, her soul leaking out like water, he realized something.  
  
This wasn't about him at all.  
  
~ * ~ * ~ (ends)  
  
She awoke, and left around midnight to practice the piano, her skin was burning, and she could barely keep the tears from reaching her eyes.  
  
Sitting down, her fingers shook on the piano. Flawless was impossible, and she knew well that he didn't actually expect her to learn the piece flawlessly by morning, he was just concerned that she would be a quick enough learner to be useful to the band.  
  
And she would prove that she was.  
  
She played until her back and fingers ached with it, until her skin was itching with the sweat that had dried after...  
  
Well, just after.  
  
And now, she could feel the skin lifting off of her fingers, and she wanted to scream.  
  
This was what happened, huh? When you tried to get free of limitations and just do something.  
  
This was what happened.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
He could feel it when she left, and he tried to sleep, but he couldn't.  
  
As always, his father had been right, hadn't been wrong, the circle turned and he was just pain. He was just pain. Acid tears stung him behind his eyes, and he wanted to reach out for a knife, a blade, just to peel away the layer of pain he'd caused her, but he knew she wouldn't feel better afterward, and he wouldn't feel the pain, as it always was, and always would be.  
  
Suddenly, he wanted to laugh, wanted to rage, scream at fate and this damned life it had given him, instead, he went to follow her, silently, watching her, she wasn't crying anymore, but she looked close to it. He wanted to go to her, wrap her in his arms and just...he didn't know.  
  
Even if he said it would be all right, would she believe him. She'd done it because she didn't want to disappoint him, and now that he'd had her that way, he knew he didn't want to cause her that pain anymore.  
  
But he couldn't live without her.  
  
In the room, she sat down, achingly and began to play again, flawlessly, it seemed to him, but again and again, she sighed and collapsed. Then she hit a key, the highest, harshest sound he'd ever heard, and started laughing.  
  
In that moment, it was all he could do not to reach out to her. Again, she bared down on the keyboard and played, she skipped from part to part, jumping around, and then, once through, she played it just...perfectly.  
  
Of course, he didn't know anything about piano, she could have hit so many notes wrong, and he would never have noticed.  
  
But, she didn't. He was sure she didn't.  
  
Then, she interlaced her fingers and pushed them away from her, a cacophony of cracks resounded from her hands, her back, her shoulders, her neck, and then she stood, and turned.  
  
And looked at him.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
His thumbs flipped out, small, and she was sure he didn't notice, but she did. He was hoping she would come to him, hoping she would forgive him even though she was the one at fault.  
  
She smiled at him slowly and stood up, he was looking at her as if she was his final salvation, and so she ran to him, threw her arms around his neck and buried her face in his neck. "I'm so sorry." She said. "I didn't..." He lifted her face and pressed his fingers to her lips.  
  
"I'm sorry too." He said, and then brought her mouth to his, softly pressing his lips to hers. "I don't ever want to cause you pain." His lips moved against hers. "Ever, so if I am, I want you to tell me."  
  
"The same goes for me." She said, and then slipped her fingers up his shoulders to caress his scalp, she moved her face from his, an inch away that felt like nothing. "I don't know if we'll ever be able to..."  
  
His stomach tightened, and his arms tightened around her. "It's okay." He said. "What we had before...it was better than pain, right?" She didn't move, and he reached his hand under her chin, scooping it up so her eyes met his. "Right?"  
  
She didn't say a word as their eyes met, it felt like they were melting into each other. "Right." She said, and her eyes didn't smile, nor did her mouth, but he knew she felt what he felt.  
  
It didn't matter. It hardly mattered either way...if they could be together.  
  
He couldn't say anything mundane, nothing like he would before, to lighten the mood, because he couldn't speak anything but what he was thinking. "I love you." He said. "It doesn't matter."  
  
"I love you too." She said. "But it matters."  
  
He didn't want to move from this moment, but he knew he had to, and as his hands stroked up her arms, she flinched and tears leaked from her eyes.  
  
"What's wrong?" He asked, jerking her away from him, and she almost cried out.  
  
"Don't touch me." She said, with tears in her voice. She pressed her lips together.  
  
He could feel her skin burn under his touch, and jerked away. "What's wrong?"  
  
"Nothing." She said. "Nothing." And turned away.  
  
"Please tell me." His hands ghosted over the skin on the back of her neck.  
  
"I don't know, okay!" She said, spinning to him. "None of the doctors could figure it out. I'd go ages without anything happening, a flare up...and then, all of a sudden, it would be there...like...like...I don't know."  
  
"What would be there?"  
  
"My skin, damnit." She said. "See this." She scraped her nails over the back of her hand and skin flaked off like breadcrumbs. "It doesn't hurt when I touch myself, but it hurts when other people do it...like burning." She raked her fingers through her hair. "And then, all of a sudden, it'll go away, just like that."  
  
"How..."  
  
"I don't know." She said. "It doesn't hurt when I touch anything else...just people."  
  
"I'm sorry." He said, and then reached out for her hand. She traced a finger over the back of his hand and just barely flinched. "Come back to the room with me." She said, and walked past him into the hallway. "I'll sleep on top of the sheets."  
  
He nodded, and as they walked back to the room, he wanted to touch her, wanted to touch her so much that it hurt him inside. But he couldn't, because if he did, it would hurt her. 


	15. Stipulations

Forever in Your Arms, Chapter Fifteen  
  
In the morning, he woke up as raw as if he had been dragged over sandpaper. "Marie." He said, gently shaking her.  
  
"What?" She asked, groggily leaning over to kiss him. When their lips brushed, she flinched and turned away. "Damnit."  
  
"Wait, baby." He said, and smiled at her softly. He pushed the sheet up over her mouth, and leaned in. "Does it hurt?" He asked after the cotton was thoroughly soaked.  
  
"Does what hurt?" She asked, her eyes shining up at him. "Oh, oh!" She squealed and pulled him back down, ignoring the slight stinging in her hands. "Logan!"  
  
They kissed again, drawing it out more this time. "I can't believe..." She said, and then kissed him again. The cotton impeded their mouths, but she could feel his against hers as they kissed, his saliva soaked through the fabric until she could taste him, his tongue pushed at hers softly. It wasn't the same, certainly, but...it was something.  
  
"I love you." She said. "You're a genius."  
  
"I love you too." He said, scrubbing his hands over his thighs. "It's not the same yet...I'll go get some...silk or something...and..."  
  
"Don't worry about that." She said bordering on tears. "Logan, I can...I can touch you...sort of."  
  
"I know." He said. "I know."  
  
"Are you okay?" She asked. "You've been itching since I woke up."  
  
"Fine." He said. "I just need to take a shower."  
  
"I'll be in after you, then." She smiled. "I'm going to practice for a couple of minutes while you do...so yell at me or something."  
  
"Okay." He said. "I will then." And slipped into the bathroom. He rubbed his hands over his face, and then smiled at his reflection. She'd looked so happy, he could hardly believe it himself. But this, itching, it was from her, he was almost sure. But he wouldn't-couldn't tell her. It would break her, and he could handle the itching, he couldn't handle breaking her.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
Charles stood in the doorway behind her, silently, her feet were tapping on the pedals, the song sounded just as it should: Melancholy, vicious and beautiful.  
  
"You know I know?" He asked when her hands settled on the keys, her feet no longer pressing the pedals.  
  
"Know what?" She asked, turning on the bench to face him. Her anxiety didn't show in her eyes, but he knew it was there.  
  
"About you and Logan." He said.  
  
He could see the flashes of: 'should I disagree' in her eyes, and was glad she decided not to. "I figured you eventually would."  
  
"Logan and my agreement was that he wouldn't bed you. That was the reason you were allowed to stay." Charles said, and watched the gears in her mind work.  
  
Her eyes flooded with tears, but she blinked them away, and when she spoke, her voice was steady: "I can't leave...for Logan, and for me...I need to stay."  
  
"I'm sorry, Marie." Charles said. "That was Logan and my agreement."  
  
"So, you're saying I have to leave?" She asked, her hands trembling. "Where am I supposed to go? This place, this band, is my life."  
  
"I'm not saying you have to leave, Marie." He said, and Logan entered the room behind him, his hair wet, and his eyes flickering between Marie and Charles like a metronome.  
  
Marie didn't speak to him, didn't reach out to him, only stared at Charles. "So what are you saying?"  
  
"I'm saying that you can stay, and you can be with Logan."  
  
A flash of hope entered her eyes, and suddenly it was clear to her what he was saying. "You can't regulate relationships between members of the band." She said, and hoped beyond hope that it was true, that she wasn't being pretentious or assuming something she should not assume.  
  
"I can't regulate relationships between members of the band." He said, and smiled at her, his eyes twinkling. Logan's hand found Charles' shoulder and they both smiled softly at Marie.  
  
"Oh, thank you!" She said, and ran over to Charles, hugging him tightly, her skin pressing against his. Before his arms had the chance to come around her, she had pulled away, and was standing a foot from him with her hands clasped behind her back. "I..." She couldn't tell him, not this early in the game, not when she hadn't told Logan until it was absolutely necessary. No.  
  
"We need to do some shopping for you and all that, to give you the correct PR image, of course. And we'll have to do some interviews with you and Jean, so the public knows that there are no hard feelings between her and the band, and all..."  
  
Marie gaped at him. Jean and her in the same room had never been optimal. How could she disagree? "I don't know if that's a good idea." She said, and regretted the words momentarily. "There are plenty of hard feelings between Jean and I...if not Jean and the band."  
  
"Over Logan, I know." He said. "I don't know if there's a way to get around those feelings, and it's possible that certain members of the press will pick up on it, but..." He reached out to take one of her hands, and she could hardly refuse, though Logan noted the cringe that ran through her body when their skin came into contact. She shifted away from him as quickly as she thought she could when he began to speak again. "Jean signed a contract when she came into the band that if she ever left the band- weather by my decision or by hers-she would not contribute to any bad press we might receive, and-if it was her decision-she would help to smooth the transition for the new member." He sighed and Logan shifted around to Marie, his hand resting on her waist, shielded from her skin by her shirt. "As it was her decision to leave the band, she cannot shirk the stipulations of the contract, even if it is someone whom she dislikes who will be taking her place."  
  
Logan nodded, and Marie smiled at Charles. "That's good then." She said. "So, I take it I'll be signing a contract soon?"  
  
"Yes." Charles said. "Along with several other things we need to work out...such as your 'code name' and your quirk."  
  
"Quirk?" Marie asked, and Charles patted her on the shoulder.  
  
"Every member of the band has a little quirk." Charles had fallen into investor PR mode. "...Ororo with the white hair, Scott with the sunglasses...Jean didn't have one, but that's because she thought she was too mature for that, and it's exclusion suited her...Logan with the...well, Logan. We'll sort something out for you."  
  
"Gloves." She said quickly.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Gloves." She said. "I'll wear gloves."  
  
"Won't it be hard to play the piano in gloves?"  
  
"Could be." She said. "I'm sure that I could get something like a texturizer to put on the fingertips."  
  
Charles nodded for a moment, and just as Marie was about to say goodbye, he reached out for her arm. "Clothes is the ticket for you, I think...we've used it for Scott, but the glasses give him that sort of 'cool' that people relate to sometimes...with you we could do layers, lots of skin covered up...mystery...no veil over your face of course, because that'd be over the top, but...you've got a nice body, even in a lot of layers that'll show, and if you don't show it off, then maybe it'll be intriguing..." He shook his head briefly. "Oh, anyway...I'll let you get back to your room, shower, whatnot, I'll expect you at rehearsal today, and to see me in my office to talk about all this and get some contracts signed, maybe an hour before rehearsal starts."  
  
"Okay." She said, and as he walked out the door, she spun back to the piano, picking up her discarded shoes and the music that had been abandoned on it's stand. "Logan! Oh my God!"  
  
He carefully put his arms around her, pressed her face into his shirt and let her cry the tears of happiness that had been leaking from her eyes since Charles had said she was in the band. "You know what this means, don't you?" He asked.  
  
"Yes." She said. "God, yes, Logan...we can...be together...don't even have to hide it...God...I love you." She said.  
  
"I love you too." He said, and then picked her up and carried her to their room.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
They couldn't touch. And it wasn't the same through clothes, sheets, anything. They tried.  
  
"I'm sorry." She said, he was lying tensely next to her, on top of the sheets, trying to tell himself yet again that it wasn't her fault, trying to tell her with his actions, but when he couldn't touch, he couldn't do anything.  
  
"It's okay. I understand." He said, then-knowing that wasn't enough-"It's not your fault. We'll sort something out."  
  
"Okay." She said. "I'm really sorry."  
  
"Don't be." His voice was a little more harsh than she had heard it before and she wondered if he was angry with her for knowing it was her fault.  
  
"Okay." She said again, and then curled up next to him, her head against his clothed shoulder. She closed her eyes, softly, and then breathed in his scent. That was as close as they could get. Scent and fingertips through clothing.  
  
She got up to go to the shower.  
  
Behind her he turned to the window and sighed. Who this was about anymore didn't seem to matter, what mattered was that it was hell for both of them. "I'll be back in a couple minutes." He said.  
  
It turned out to be a little longer.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
"I got you something." He said, smiling.  
  
"What?" She asked, her hair still wet from the shower, towel skimming over her thighs.  
  
"It's a secret, okay?" He asked, then: "Close your eyes."  
  
"Okay." She said, and then looked at him with passion and laughter in her eyes. "Better not be something gross."  
  
"It's not." He said. "I promise."  
  
After a couple minutes of dark, she felt his fingers on hers, but they felt different, he spread her fingers out and slid something on them. A glove. "A glove?"  
  
"I got the idea from you." He said.  
  
"Oh." She said, and let him put the other glove on her other hand. Then something light as air drifted over her lips, her skin.  
  
"It's silk." He said.  
  
"What?"  
  
"It's silk."  
  
"Oh." She said, and felt his warm breath on her nipples as she understood what he meant. "You know, in Mexico, in the old days, they had special sheets with holes in them that the brides used on their wedding night." She hoped he caught her meaning.  
  
"You don't say." He said, and returned a minute later with a razor blade.  
  
She opened her eyes, and he was smiling. 


	16. Didn't mean to

AN: Happy! This is coming so close on the heels of chapter fifteen that it's practically too soon...well, not for you all, probably, but for me, as I've only gotten three reviews on fifteen...*sigh*  
  
Review! Please :-D.  
  
Forever in Your Arms, Chapter Sixteen  
  
The slit was cut in the fabric like butter, and her hands found his arms, gripping, holding him to her as his mouth found her body through the silk. "I love you, Marie." He said, and set the blade beside him, rolling over to sheathe himself.  
  
She only moaned. "I want you with me...finally, I want you inside me..." He said her name, once, twice, and she opened her eyes, they met his, their liquid gaze joining and holding as he slipped into her.  
  
This time, she didn't cry, the sounds that came from her throat were pure pleasure, whimpers and sobs of: "More" and "Harder" until he was weak with satiation and she quivered with pleasure.  
  
And as her body tensed and coiled with pleasure, something cut into her back, something sharp, and metal, and her scream severed the strings holding Logan to his ecstasy. "What's wrong?"  
  
"I'm...God...cut...something..." Her voice was weak with pain and he reached under her with his gloved hand to retrieve the blade he had thought was on top of the sheet.  
  
"I'm sorry...sorry..." He pulled out of her, throbbing with tension. He went to get some gauze, salve, medical tape, and went back to soothe her pain. She was on her chest, whimpering, when he came back. "I'm sorry, Marie, so sorry."  
  
"I don't...it's not..." she trailed off, and he could hear her teeth clenching on the pillow. "Not your fault..."  
  
"It is." He said, and clumsily went to soothing the cut, something like five inches long on her back. Not deep, at least that was good, but long and bleeding. Her eyes were closed against the tears that threatened them as his gloved fingers rode over her skin. He was stubborn, had always been stubborn, she knew that, so she kept quiet.  
  
She wasn't speaking. All he knew was that she wasn't speaking, her warm southern voice wasn't coming out of her mouth, soothing him with it's deep calmness. The silence was overwhelming. As the gauze drifted lightly over her wound, the fibers sticking softly, as he taped it down so that she could move, his breathing was harsher, hers shallower. She was sleeping. That was good.  
  
He found the blade, and went to the bathroom, different bathroom from the first time she'd found him, and so maybe she wouldn't look. He went to get his shaving kit. It was a ritual. On the counter there was her shirt from the night before. He needed something Marie. Something Marie. His eyes blurred it's edges as he reached out for it.  
  
The sound of the door closing brought Marie out of her soft sleep, and she sat, hoping against hope that he would come back. She was tempted to say his name, to call out for him, to let him know he was welcome here, but what if he didn't want to be there, what if...she hadn't been what he wanted, actually...what if he thought she should have ignored the pain?  
  
He wouldn't.  
  
Would he?  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
In the bathtub, blood stained the white cotton. Logan cut into himself, the blood pouring out of his engorged vessels, and he cried, hoping to wash it away. Wash away her lies, his pride, his anger...his love.  
  
He woke at the sun and washed the blood out of the basin, threw the rust- tinted shirt into his shaving kit and washed himself off. The heat stung as he had hoped it would, and the soap burned. His eyes closed and opened, slowly, tiredness grasping his neck.  
  
In the other room, her hands covered her biceps and she cried softly. "I love you, Logan." Came from her lips momentarily and she couldn't breathe for her fear that maybe he didn't.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
The next day, all they spoke was smiling sadly, and the next night, she waited for him to get in bed before she crawled in after him, curled up to his side and wished this had never happened. His fingers splayed over her shoulder through the silk and he could feel her squirm.  
  
"I didn't mean to..." He said.  
  
"I know." She said. "It was my fault anyhow..."  
  
"No, it wasn't."  
  
She closed her eyes against his flesh. "I didn't mean to..."  
  
"I know." He said. "It wasn't your fault." Suddenly wetness seeped through the fabric and he thought maybe she was crying.  
  
She *was* crying.  
  
"Even on the darkest nights, I see your face, it makes some light." He sang softly. "Marie, please don't think it's your fault...it's my fault, my father's fault..." Her arms wrapped around him and he felt the soft warmth of her lips against his side, her soft hair brushing against the wounds she couldn't see. "My father was...cruel. He spent a good portion of his days in a bottle, and the rest with a belt in his hand, slicing my flesh off. He beat me so hard and so long that I couldn't feel anything like pain once I got out of there..." This would be the hard part. "After I got out I was living on the streets like you...this nice woman took me in, she...was my home for a while, a mother I had never had. I felt her hand on my cheek or her lips on my forehead and it was like I could love...after she died-she'd had a real son, she willed him everything-I just couldn't go on...I had a job, my guitar, everything I could want, except when I went out...to have sex for the first time, I was probably eighteen...there was nothing. I tried again after that, and again and still nothing.  
  
"One night, while I was walking home from work this stoned kid, he was nothing more than fourteen, laid a knife to my neck to get my money." Marie gasped softly. "I gave it to him, but he sliced me a couple times anyhow...nothing like deep enough to cause any problems, but the thing was that I felt it..." Logan unconsciously ran his fingers over the scars under his jaw bone, and Marie wished she could feel them, could kiss him better...could anything to help. Her fingers itched through the fabric of the gloves but she didn't reach out, and he continued: "After that I bought some blades. I didn't really know what I was doing the first time...I didn't want to kill myself, nothing like that, but..." He sighed. "I ended up slicing myself deep enough that I went to the hospital. I said it was a kitchen accident, and they believed me, and I went back, and I tried again, this time shallower, I peeled off layers of skin, it was like...not like pleasure. It was like...like..." There were tears in his voice and he couldn't say what he meant.  
  
"Like pain, but at least like feeling." She said, and reached out to him, peeled off the sheet from his chest and rested her cheek against his skin. It stung like fire and she stayed, her fingers twitching. As the pain intensified he slipped his hands under her face, rested her tender skin against the soft fabric of his gloves.  
  
"Don't hurt yourself like I hurt." He said. "I don't want that for you."  
  
"I don't want it for you." She said, her head tilting from his hands' embrace to look up at his shining eyes. "Can't you see...I'll do anything for you. Anything. I'll ignore my pain if you don't ever have to feel pain again." His mouth opened but she hastened. "I will. I won't let you do this to yourself, Logan. I don't care what happens to me. I don't even care."  
  
"I care." He said. "It's not about me, it's about you."  
  
"It's not about me." He wanted to protest, but he didn't, her finger on his lips shushed him "It's not about you, it's about us, Logan, *us.*"  
  
"Us." He said. "It is about us."  
  
"Yes." She said. "Now, I want to try again...will you try again with me?"  
  
"Yes." He said, but there was a question in his voice.  
  
"Nothing will go wrong. There's nothing but you and me on the bed, nothing but our skin and the silk and our hearts." He didn't say anything and so she returned to the words. "I want you to promise you will never do that again without talking with me about it. Even if you think I don't want you to...even if...I yell at you, or if you think I don't love you anymore." He nodded hesitantly. "I will always love you." She said, and pulled the silk up to kiss him. "Always."  
  
"Promise me you will always love me." There was a hint of desperation in his voice. "And I'll promise I won't...do that."  
  
"I promise." She said.  
  
"I promise too." He said.  
  
"Good." She said. "Now, let's get it on!"  
  
He laughed, a sudden, happy intrusion on the dire conversation, and their skin, the silk and their hearts connected, and they were finally, finally one. 


	17. Kiss me again

Authors Note: All you worrywarts...so many people reviewed and said: "This isn't the last chapter, IS IT???" I say, as you are getting this chapter, it's fairly apparent that it's not, now. But I'm sorry for letting you all think that...Rae is a bad bad person. Anyhow, for future notice, if it's the last chapter, I'll write (in big bold letters, probably hugely obvious) THE END. So, no, this isn't the last chapter either. I hope you all keep reviewing, and enjoy the chapter. (and I'm sorry this took so long...I had that internet virus that wouldn't let me get online :-/ )  
  
Forever In Your Arms, Chapter Seventeen.  
  
The next few weeks were manic, press conferences, interviews where Jean and Marie acted like they were friends-or at least civil-and long silences where no one knew what to say, because everyone knew that Logan and Marie were involved. Or everyone besides the press.  
  
And a harsh word from Scott to Logan.  
  
"What did you do to her?" The red sunglasses were off today, and Scott's blue eyes shone with anger.  
  
"What did I do to who?"  
  
"To Jean, she left because of you...She wouldn't say much, but what she did say pointed straight at you."  
  
Logan didn't say anything. He shook his head but didn't try to walk away. "You don't really want to know." He said, trying to keep the pity out of his voice-but not succeeding.  
  
"Yes I do." Scott said. "My fiancé up and leaves me because of something you did, and I want to know what the fuck it was."  
  
Logan looked down, couldn't look this man in the eyes and tell him. This man who was a friend, if not a close one. He couldn't tell Scott the truth, but Scott deserved the truth. "She came by a while ago." He said. "To my room at night." Scott's jaw clenched, and Logan continued. "She asked if I wanted to..."  
  
"You liar!" Scott said, his fist a centimeter from Logan's nose, knuckles white and eyes raging with flame. "She wouldn't do that."  
  
Logan wanted to deny it, wanted to say that Scott was right, that it was some other reason, not this, anything but this. But he couldn't.  
  
"I'm sorry." Logan said. "You can hit me, beat me, I don't care. But I didn't, I didn't do anything with her. She's yours. I have my own girl."  
  
"And girl is the right word, isn't it?" Scott asked. "How old are you, you fucking bastard, you could be her father!"  
  
Logan's breathing was shallow, weak, as he stepped away from Scott. "Don't say that to her." He said. "Do not say that to her. I don't care if you hurt me, you can say anything, do anything, but if you hurt her, I will kill you." His eyes were white-hot rage.  
  
Scott backed away a step. "Jean lied to me." He said, his hand, which had been clenched in a fist for the conversation dropped, fell open and his eyes drifted to the floor. "I didn't mean to..." He couldn't look at Logan now, maybe not ever again. "She's not too young for you, I know she's not, I just...she made me think..." Scott turned, started to walk away.  
  
"Don't worry about it." Logan said, his hand on Scott's shoulder. "It's not your fault that you loved her."  
  
"I did." Scott said, and smiled weakly, then he walked away.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
Marie's fingers were bone white when they got into bed that night, and through the covers and the gloves, he could feel the chill in them. "Are you..."  
  
"I'm fine, Logan." She said. "Fine." She curled softly into him, her long brown hair sliding over the silk, over his skin like water.  
  
"Good." He said, and smiled at her. She was tired, he knew, too tired, and he was still giddy with lust from the night weeks ago when they had first made love. "Do you want..." She said, but the milky covers of her eyes were already drifting down, she was too tired do anything.  
  
"I'm fine for tonight." He said, and his hand snaked around the sheet to join with hers as her face pressed into his chest. The barrier was there, sticking between them with the grainy film of abused oceanwater. He stroked her shoulder through it as her eyes closed. Her mouth opened against his chest, his fingers pressing their gratifying warmth into hers, and she slept.  
  
His eyes were still open, wide, he wanted to but couldn't sleep, couldn't reach out to the siren hovering above him, begging him to put a stop to the hours of waking madness next to Marie's limp, soft form.  
  
Finally, somewhere near three AM, his eyes closed and his mind rested.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
The next day, while she was working her fingers down on the keyboard he had provided her, and the private room she had requested, Charles dropped an ultimatum on her.  
  
The half of the first week she had been in the band she got her persona, long clingy skirts and tight jeans, shirts like the seductress in winter and gloves for every occasion. Her hair had been dyed and styled numerous times until Charles had decided that a streak of white next to her face was exactly what she needed to accent the mystery.  
  
The second half of the week she had been introduced to the public, in numerous interviews both with and without Jean, and with and without the rest of the X-Men. Charles had assured her that though a lot of the press focusing on her alone seemed negative, it was in fact a good sign for the band, as the public had thought it was a good band with Jean in it-who he assured her, she would surpass in the public eyes as both a sex symbol and a role model in months, if not weeks.  
  
The second week had been dedicated to refining her image, further promoting her to the public and also perfecting all of the songs with the band. As it was, they had had a performance three days after Jean left, which Marie did not perform in as she did not know most of the songs, and which showed the public that Jean had-in fact-left the band before Marie came into the band.  
  
Charles told her this was a good thing.  
  
In fact, everything about the situation was a good thing until that day.  
  
"Your style is too classical." He said, shaking his head as her fingers whittled at the piano. "I mean, it's beautiful, but it isn't exactly what the band needs yet."  
  
Thank God he hadn't told her at the last performance-her first-when her fingers had been shaking from nerves anyhow, and she wasn't too confidant in the keying of about half of the songs anyhow.  
  
Now that she knew what she was doing, it was better, but not ok.  
  
"So, what do you propose I do about that?" She asked.  
  
She could see-in his cloudy eyes-that his mind was gyrating, spinning ideas up and tossing them away, talking them up and dissapointing them.  
  
Then his eyes cleared. "I have a friend in one of the next cities...he was my second choice for the band, next to Jean, and if I call him up it's possible that he might come in to teach you some of what I want, for the next few weeks."  
  
She nodded. "Okay."  
  
"Good. I'll call him today and if he decides to come, I'll fly him in tomorrow or the next day to get you started." He touched Marie's shoulder and smiled down at her. "I'm glad you're willing to do this, it makes it much easier for me if you don't protest like Jean first did when I brought her in." He squeezed her shoulder and she smiled at him as he walked off. Even though she knew that he was just saying critical things about Jean to make her feel better, it didn't change that it did make her feel better, especially after the scathing article about her "in" to the band, spotlighted on the front of a supermarket tabloid as "The Rogue's Slutty Little Secret." A piece prompted by her first, shaky performance, Logan's hot looks, and a picture of him with his arm around her-taken sometime around the first concert by an enterprising fan.  
  
Her fingers had halted on the keys, the rubber tipped gloves Charles had had made clinging to the E major chord. She shook, and peeled the gloves off. She had to practice with them on, of course, but for a moment, she could just play.  
  
Logan walked in on her an hour later pounding out a song with no music in front of her, her eyes stormy in the reflection off the window in front of her, and not seeing him.  
  
He slumped against the door. He could feel her, the jarring chords pounding at his heart like a thousand sledgehammers. His hands started to tremble as the song reached a soft lull and then slammed into a harsh peak. The vertigo on his heart trembled with the piano's subtle vibrato.  
  
The last notes were fast, jumping over him like running evil and left him feeling like someone had sucked out his soul, left his body a tarnished piece of silver that nothing could clean.  
  
With the last chord, he couldn't breathe, the soothing softness of the tone in his ears begging him to fall down, to reach into the floor, to sink into what was real.  
  
Logan's bones fell apart, and he was on the floor, limper than water.  
  
Marie's head whipped around to him, and her stormy eyes paled to the mist of just before the sunrise. "Logan." She said, their eyes meeting, joining until the air between them hummed the violence of attacking bees.  
  
She rushed to him, her knees falling out when she was two feet away. Her arms around him, pressing into the cotton of his shirt, her lips landing mercifully on his and clinging helplessly, joining them together like two notes in a scale. His fingers on her back pleaded with her to let him touch her skin, to let them be together in just that way for only a moment now, only one single moment.  
  
They realized at the same time that their lips were touching without anything between them.  
  
Logan pulled away first, forcing his head into the hard ground below him, praying to God that he hadn't hurt her, that he hadn't-please-caused that red sting in her lips because of pain, that he hadn't...just don't what he'd done.  
  
Marie pulled back slowly, luxuriating in the soft skin of his lips, the lack of pain, the ecstacy. "Kiss me again." She said. "Please."  
  
"I can't...does it hurt?"  
  
She shook her head and waited for his fingers to come up and wrap around her scalp, to tangle in her hair and pull her to him.  
  
He did just that, praying one last time that it would be fine, that she wouldn't hurt, that they could finally be with each other without anything between them.  
  
Her lips tingled as his touched them, but nothing like pain was there, and her tongue reached into his mouth, probing his skin, the muscles and tendons and his gums, revling in the level of sensation, the multitude of things she could feel in him. And he did the same, his lips begging hers inside him, sucking on her lips, and she smiled against his tongue, her lips curving softly as they melted together. 


	18. Like James Dean

Authors Note: Hey, I know you all thought I'd abandoned this, but it's actually a really hectic story that I'll outline here, for a while, I didn't write much because of school and stuff, then when I'd gotten that under control, my computer totally broke down (luckily, I'd backed it up soon before that, so I didn't lose much) then, once I'd gotten it back, I couldn't login to ff.n because the computer didn't like me or something. Then, Yay! I finished a chapter, and I'm posting it now. So here you all go. And I'm sorry about the delay. The long delay. There might be a semi- long one again, but nothing like that.  
  
Forever In Your Arms, Chapter Seventeen.  
  
She breathed slowly as the door clicked open and then closed, turned around. He was standing there. "Hello." He said slowly, his voice thick with something that sounded like alcohol but he wasn't moving with that sort of waiting clumsiness, just standing calmly beside the door.  
  
"Hello." She said back, clasping her hands tightly together. He walked towards her, and sat on the long lacquered bench next to her.  
  
"Charles calls, I come." He said, laughing. "That's how it's always been." She nodded. "You know, he was my teacher for a while, before-he says-I surpassed him, and he brought some Julliard graduates and professional concert pianists, and all sorts of shitty people who couldn't put soul into their fingers if they bargained with the devil..." He trailed off as she shifted towards the end of the bench. "Anyhow, that's not what I'm here for, but I do hope you don't think I have no soul in my hands or whatever you may think. I know you've got soul, I can just hear it in the tapes Charles sent."  
  
Marie nodded.  
  
"Do you talk?"  
  
"Yes." She said. He nodded, and then looked at her more intently. "I haven't had a lesson for years, I just...it's difficult for me to come back to playing for seven hours a day when I played maybe twice a week if I was lucky less than three months ago."  
  
He nodded, and she nodded, then he put a piece out on the piano. "Play this for me."  
  
"It isn't one of our songs."  
  
"I know." He said. "The point isn't to teach you how to play those songs better, it's to teach you how to play better. You want to play the appropriate songs in a less classical way, in a more punky jumpy way if that suits them, or a more melodic slow lovely way, or anything. *That's* the point."  
  
She nodded and scooted over to the center of the bench, and he got up to stand behind her, he was wearing gloves, she noticed, but she didn't say anything. For all anyone but she and Logan knew, she still didn't touch people. And she didn't. She peeled off her gloves and placed her fingers on the keys, proceeding from the A minor cord to the F flat. Her fingers flew on the keys softly and she hardly felt his fingers tighten or heard him say "No, no, no." She lifted her fingers off of the keys. He took them and placed them back on the keys. "It's not an aria, Marie, it's jazz, think of it like the notes are running away from you, like you can't catch them even though your fingers should be faster.  
  
"Now, again."  
  
She played it again and again and again to his dissatisfied ears, and his fingers stayed on her shoulders. "Would you stop touching me?" She asked, finally. "It's difficult to move when you're holding on like that."  
  
He nodded, and let go. Then she bent over the keys like they were her secret, and started to play, race the notes up and down the scales, the white and black blurring beneath her fingers. And his jaw dropped open.  
  
As she hit the last note, finally catching it, his mouth was open.  
  
She smiled as she looked back at him.  
  
"So, how long do you think you'll be here?"  
  
He looked at her, his twenty-five year old eyes seeing a beautiful young girl with enough talent for seven of him, and he closed his eyes softly, "I don't know, probably not long."  
  
She smiled. "Are we done for today?"  
  
"Sure." He said. "I'm going to go sit down, you practice the band's songs, I'll see how you've improved."  
  
But she played them the same as she always had.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
"Fucking bastard." She said, walking back into Logan and her room. "Who does he think he is telling me what to do? He couldn't play an aria if Mme. Butterfly begged him to."  
  
Logan rolled over on the bed. "What's wrong baby."  
  
"Charles flew in some primadonna music teacher to show me how to 'infuse emotion into my playing' infuse emotions my butt."  
  
"Calm down, Marie." Logan said, and walked over to her. He was writing on his staff-paper, and she really hadn't planned on interrupting that, but it was already done.  
  
"I'm sorry." She said, and then slid her arms around his waist, crushing her face into his bare chest. "It's just that no one ever insulted my playing at home, never...all of everyone said it was perfect, and I know that I'm not back up to my par level yet, but still, when I was seven I played in a recital with the highschoolers, and no one would have noticed if my feet had touched the floor...I just want to be that good again and I can't play, and I can't concentrate on playing, so I'm diving."  
  
"Don't say that, Marie, it's not true."  
  
"It is too. He just about said it; 'it's hard when all you have is run down talent and seven hours of practice a day.' *Run down*."  
  
"You aren't run down."  
  
"I am." She said, and then pushed him away, walked into the main room and lay down on the bed to sleep. Or cry, but he couldn't tell because her face was buried in the pillows instead of beside him where it should have been.  
  
"I'm afraid sometimes when I lay down to sleep and can't close my eyes because I know yours aren't closed." He wrote, and turned the page. "I'm not afraid of the night when I know you're sleeping because I know soon I will be too." He skipped two lines this time and blinked. "The nightlights of your eyes light up my darkest hours and I cannot sleep only when I cannot breathe for lack of your scent." Poetry is not it. He shrugged and smiled, sliding down the bed until he was in line with Marie, slipped his arm around her and waited for her to look up at him and say something. Anything, but she didn't.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
At midnight she got up and took Logan's staff paper from the chair. She copied the words and preliminary notes onto another sheet. The smile cracked her lips before she got to the end. Not poetry, but sweet. On the next line below her meticulous copy, she wrote, "You're breathing manic, holding panic in your eyes, singing little lullabies to my heart. You worry- that your efforts are in vain, and my pain will never cease, and this lie is just too deep. And somehow, I keep saying to you, go to sleep, baby, your breath is my lullaby. Sleep now, baby, I'll never say goodbye." A little more of the poetry.  
  
Then she went to the keys. She didn't play without gloves during the day, but at night, it was her game, and only hers. Each note on the board popped with pink and neon blue, she scribbled the notes, dots, lines, circles, treble clef, key of F sharp, more dots, circles, lines. Then she put on the headphones and plugged them into the jack, didn't want to wake anyone. She played the notes, singles, a long string of notes-thus was the limitation of the human voice-imagined how they would sound put to the words, in her weak voice, along with Logan's weak poetry in his strong voice. Sighed, limp fingers.  
  
If only, if only. She got up, pulling the keyboard along with her head, cursed as she fell to the ground. Then, lay there, on the floor, feeling that emotion, wondering if, if only she could feel this rush, this sort of midnight-rush to the keys every time she played, and if that would be what He wanted, if it would be enough to satisfy Him.  
  
It would be enough to satisfy her. For the time being. And if seven hours of practice a day wasn't already killing her over-worked, under-appreciated hands, then what exactly did she think that midnight practices would do? And what would they do to Logan? Shit.  
  
Shit. She pulled off the headphones, righted the keyboard, righted herself, and then ran down the hall back to their room. And he was up; scribbling on a piece of paper she'd seen him write on before with a half-used-up pencil, an eraser in his other hand.  
  
"Logan."  
  
"Darlin'."  
  
"I was. . ."  
  
"Practicing. I know." He looked up from the paper and smiled as she walked to his side of the bed. "I'm beginning to think I never should have asked if you played."  
  
"I'm beginning to think you never should have asked what I was doing out there that night." His mouth was open, and she kissed it. "But, I'm awfully glad that you did."  
  
"Me too." He said, and swung his arm around her waist. She sighed as he pulled her towards him, as his hand snaked under her shirt, toyed with her skin. "I love you, Marie."  
  
"I love you too, Logan."  
  
"Good, then you won't mind if I do a little something to express that love. . ."  
  
"Not at all." She smiled once again as his body swallowed her whole.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
"Charles, I don't know how you expect me to teach that girl, she's an incompetent student, she didn't listen to one thing I said yesterday." Not mentioning the one play through. Not necessary. "She holds herself like a damned saint, and what's with the gloves?"  
  
Charles chose not to divulge the information he'd dug up about her past skin problems, instead he turned around to look out the window. Then turned back. "Kyle, it's not necessary to tell me all of this. You're the teacher, it's your job to take her and mold her. I'm the manager of one of the most popular bands in the country, it's my job to know raw talent when I see it, and to snatch it up before it's gone." He paused, and turned back, to look at the young man in front of him. "I know you recognize her talent too, Kyle, and don't try to deny it. I know that you wanted to be in the band, and you know that if I have one female in the band I have to keep the gender ratios similar or I have to focus only on the girl, and no offense to Storm, but she's not the meat, Logan is."  
  
Kyle turned around, paced towards the door. "I've never had this much difficulty helping someone *feel* the music before. The piece I had her play yesterday, that was something that any hack could play right."  
  
"But she's not any hack, and you know that."  
  
"She should have been able to play it better than she did." Excepting the one time. "And she couldn't."  
  
"I think that you'll find that although Marie needs a bit of guidance, she doesn't need to be led along like a baby. She will figure it out if you give her a path, but you can't hold her hand."  
  
"Fine, are we done here?" Kyle sat back down and picked up his bag.  
  
"I wanted to check how things are going for you, you know, outside when I abduct you from your normal life?"  
  
He sighed, rolled his eyes. "Thing are going fine, my student base is good, I've built up a reputation as a teacher, I'm trying to break back into performing." He shrugged. "Good, my life is good."  
  
"That's good, then. I did always want the best for you, you know that?"  
  
Kyle nodded. "That's why you pushed me so hard to succeed."  
  
"That's why I pushed you so hard to succeed."  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
He was hovering on the bench when she came in, playing something familiar. As the door clicked shut, his hands stilled.  
  
"Hello." He said, turning around.  
  
"Hello."  
  
"I think today we're just going to practice the pertinent songs."  
  
"Good."  
  
"You've warmed up?"  
  
"It's two o'clock, what do you think?"  
  
"Good."  
  
The songs, not what he'd been playing, were on the rest when she sat down. He counted out for her as she settled her fingers on the keyboard, then watched her play. While technically perfect, it was apparent that her playing lacked every trace of anything even vaguely resembling emotion.  
  
"Marie, stop." Obediently, her fingers halted. He sat down next to her. "Don't you feel anything about this song?"  
  
"Of course I do."  
  
"No, really, what does it mean to you? You've just got the piano part here, you need to think about the words at least. What does Wolverine..."  
  
"Logan"  
  
"What?"  
  
"His name is Logan,"  
  
"Ok, what does Logan say here?"  
  
She recited the line.  
  
"Say it like you mean it."  
  
"Breathing, breaking hearts with every beat, crying down, I'm lying on my feet."  
  
"Ok, good, now play it like you said it."  
  
Her hands landed on the keys, desperately clawed out the notes, screamed them from her fingerprints.  
  
"Good. Now pay attention to that, and play it from the beginning."  
  
Marie played. He stood, Marie played.  
  
Her eyes were closed and she didn't even see him nod, grin and walk out of the room.  
  
She played this song, then the next, then the next, doing what he'd told her to do, thinking about the words, the rhythm, the way she'd play it if she meant it. The door opened slowly, and Logan stalked in, he situated himself in the dark corner of the rehearsal space, and watched her. Her fingers were gloved, but the playing was neon fire. If anyone heard her playing alone, it would be more than piano music, more than life breathing. He pressed one of his feet to the wall, leaned back, seeing her like this made him James Dean, made her Marilyn Monroe, made them both ideal, beautiful.  
  
(please review. *grin*) 


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